#and you're just gonna have to get used to that

[lxnarphase]

I NEED MORE FRATBOYS! GETO AND GOJO

��₊‧⁺...lunar's note: im being self indulgent and im not sorry at all so enjoy a lil blurbie :33

✮₊‧⁺...content: fratboys!stsg x fem!reader, mentions of weed use, breeding kink, wet and messy, dirty talk, overstimulation, dumbification, teasing, degradation, mentions of birth control

"aww...satoru, you're gonna break the poor thing."

suguru's soft hand moves to push some of your hair out of your face, a coo leaving him as he watched your eyes try to focus on him. you're just too cute for your own good, looking up at him with those teary eyes while satoru fucks you like a bunny in heat.

poor thing...you wouldn't be walking right for a while after this.

in a weak attempt to comfort you, suguru leans down after taking a hit from the joint hanging loosely from his fingers, blowing the smoke in your face. he knew it wouldn't do much to help your fucked out state, but you just looked so cute when you pouted at him for it.

"goddamn, satoru. you're fucking her like you're trying to get her pregnant," suguru chuckles as he exhales more smoke out of his nose, eyes following as it dissipates in the air. "stop tryna breed the poor thing , y' gonna kill 'im."

the room goes silent and suguru knows he's made a mistake. making such comments around the satoru gojo only ends up with trouble...

satoru looks down at you, eyes wide and wild, almost looking as if they were glowing.

pregnant?

you can't get pregnant, you're on birth control and never miss a pill, it wouldn't take, he thinks with a huff of a laugh.

but...the thought of trying to knock up his darling best friend who's already fucked so dumb does something to satoru. and that's when it clicks in his brain, his mouth dropping open in a little gasp.

"b-breed...i-i'm gonna fuckin' breed you," he whispers, an evil grin breaking out on his face. "hoooh my fuckin' god, baby girl, i'm gonna breed ya all fuckin' night," satoru groans, lifting your legs up over his shoulders as his hips start to move again.

those broken whimpers and whines from you turn to gasps and hiccupped cries as satoru presses even deeper into you, so desperate to make sure you can't feel, smell, taste, or process anything but his cock abusing your insides.

"'t-toru, s'toruuuu," you drool, plush lips parted as moans constantly pour out from you. "d-don' fuck me like that, i-i'm gonna make a mess! s-s'toruuuu!"

suguru can only hope the music from downstairs is loud enough to cover up the sounds you're making that are accompanied by the nasty, squelching sounds of that tight, sloppy cunt gushing the mixture of your slick and suguru's cum.

but...would that be so bad?

if everyone could hear how cute you sound crying out for both of them? knowing that none of them ever have a chance with you? his thick cock twitches a little, the exhibitionist in him clearly liking through that.

"tsk, tsk, tsk...you both are nasty, y'know that?"

suguru leans back down next to you again, able to watch both of your expressions. the way your body trembles from overstimulation, unsure if you want more pleasure or want a break, your hips jerking with each of satoru's deep, unforgiving thrusts.

"ohh, but you could never be a desperate lil' slut like satoru is, could you, sweet angel? look at those tears...poor thing, we're corruptin' you aren't we?"

he reaches out, brushing away some of the tears just to lick it off his thumb. "you can take it, angel girl, you can take 'toru's big, stupid cock in that pretty little cunt."

he's mean, so so mean and unfair. not just to you, but to satoru too. he's barely holding it together, the mixture of the primal need to fuck a baby into you and the heat in his lower belly from suguru's teasing too much for him.

"fuck, f-fuck, baby, wanna fill y'up, wanna give you my kids! i-i'll take such good care of you, y'know that, right," he pants, voice husky and desperate. those baby blue eyes are unusually dark, watching as his cock disappears inside your creamy cunt over'n'over, a pitiful little whine falling from his lips.

"y-yeah, yeah, yeah, imma...i-imma get you nice and—fuck, don' squeeze yet—a-an' round, mama, then we'll propose at graduation s' everyone knows you're me 'n' sugu's, you wan' that, baby?"

oh, that expression your wearing nearly sends him spiraling into insanity. he can practically see those hearts floating in your eyes as you nod almost drunkenly, your hands shakily finding themselves into his hair.

"m-mm! wan' your baby in me, g-gimme a pretty one," you pout, tugging his hair just right. satoru just lets out a crazed laugh, his eyes wide and manic.

oh boy...what did you just agree to?

"y-yeah? h-hehe, yeah? knew you wanted it, knew y'fuckin' wanted it," he groans, smashing your lips together in a sloppy, wet kiss, tongue sliding against yours noisily. "me 'n' sugu gonna take turns breedin' this pussy, mama, 's okay? never gonna be empty, even after y' get that thing removed, gonna have ya full all. day. long."

suguru just chuckles and shakes his head, one of his hands trailing up satoru's spine. the way his hips stutter inside you is adorable.

"mm, that would be nice. the pretty angel feeling out cum sloshing around her pretty tummy all day in class, having to talk to professors while it drips out of her gooey little cunt, getting those panties all messy? mm, sounds like a dream come true,'' suguru purrs, leaning in closer to satoru's ear.

"who knows...maybe if you cum enough, she won't even have t' stop taking her pills...maybe it won't be able to work if you flood her pussy with enough cum."

you keen as you get folded in half, the tip of his cock knocking again something that makes your tummy squeeze. poor satoru, he's got pleased tears in his own eyes now, just suguru's words nearly making him explode inside, his balls aching, needing to empty themselves inside you where all his cum belonged.

"get deep, get real deep in her, satoru, kiss her cervix f'me, pretty boy...'n' make sure you kiss it niiice and deep when you cum, okay? let's see if we can breed her t'night."

[aakeysmash]

maybes and sunscreen

college!sukuna masterlist

after almost a year of living together, you and college!sukuna are so accustomed to one another that you naturally slip up in the other’s conversations. maybe it's because you're both homebodies, or maybe it's because you've reached the silent agreement to keep the activities you do with yuuji hidden to preserve his innocent childhood (you learned that rumors run a long way inside your campus), or maybe it's because you started to ask sukuna less private questions, since he now seems to want to answer them even before you formulate them.

either way, the two of you always mention the other in conversations, and you don't even seem to notice, but your friends do.

"how about your house, man?" suguru asks sukuna from across the table, sipping his soda. they're sitting outside with satoru for lunch break, slouching on white plastic chairs, waiting for practice to start in less than ten minutes. days are getting longer the more summer break gets nearer, and the breeze flowing through the newly green leaves of the trees is a nice change from the humid stench of the locker rooms.

"dunno. the woman of the house is gonna bake cookies today," he shrugs, scrolling through his phone. he finds himself on a blurry zoomed in photo of a kitten covered in milk, and he smirks, hitting send after having selected your contact. you're going to love it.

"and?" geto asks, confused.

"and i don't know if she wants me to help her or not," sukuna continues, not bothering to look up from his screen, acting like he's not going to pester you until you let him help. and steal some of your cookie batter, too.

"it's the finale, bro, we've been talking about it since december. are you really not going to watch it for some cookies?" his raven haired friend exclaims, baffled. satoru only lowers his glasses on his nose, crossing his arms on his chest.

"oh, i'm going to watch it. got her hooked up on it too," the pink haired man says, a certain tilt to his voice matching the tilt of his head, as if he's saying are you crazy? i'm not missing it. "i don't know if she'd want you there, though."

geto rolls his eyes and satoru snickers, shaking his head. "we just want to watch the game on your tv. are you afraid she's going to feel uncomfortable with us there, my lord captain?" he mocks, sighing. lazily, sukuna glances his way.

"it's not her i'm worried about," he says, raising one of his eyebrows, maroon eyes squinting on a spot behind his friend's back.

"what does that even mean?" mutters geto, even more confused. it’s not like they’ve never seen you or have never been inside your house when you were there, so what’s different this time?

suddenly, sukuna grins like a madman, uncrossing his legs from on top of the table and standing up with his helmet under his arm.

“where are you goi-“ his dark haired friend starts, but satoru puts one of his hands on the other’s shoulder, effectively stopping him, whispering just wait.

sukuna takes a couple of steps, getting out of the gentle shadows of the trees above the table, still grinning.

“hi, baby. did you miss me so much you had to come to see me at practice?” he asks your nearing figure. you’re wearing a dress, the breeze soothingly flowing through your hair, and he takes a second to admire how graceful you look in the middle of the green garden. are the flowers you picked with yuuji the other day still fresh? maybe he should get more. maybe you’d like that. maybe you’d smile. maybe you'd thank him.

“i’m here because i knew you were never going to bring sunscreen with you, dickhead,” you huff, blowing your hair out of your vision, frowning. his grin only grows before he forces it away. typical.

“i don’t need that shit,” he rolls his eyes, turning on his heels and going towards the stadium. he knows you’re going to follow him. and you do.

“put it on! i’m not joking, sukuna,” you whine, trying to fall in step with him. “it’s going to be so good for your skin, come on.”

“it’s sticky and i don’t like feeling like a pussy,” he growls, going faster toward the benches inside the stadium and plopping down on them.

“you like pussy, though,” you shrug, forcing yourself between his parted legs, rummaging through your bag.

“i like you too, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let me stick it in your pussy, does it,” he asks you smugly. you punch him on the shoulder, bewildered.

“you’re so disgusting,” you scoff, opening the little spf tube you brought in your purse just for him. "and don't tell me you like me when you never listen to me in the first place," you playfully add, caressing his face to smooth it out, and he lets you get his unruly hair off of his forehead. maybe he likes how you don't take the things he says to heart. maybe he just says them because he knows he's getting a snarky comment back.

“you didn’t say no, though,” he chuckles, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in your presence. your touch on his features is relaxing. he honestly thinks he could fall asleep if you were in any other setting.

“i’m letting you talk just because i’m in a male dominated field and even if i don’t agree i don’t want to die,” you deadpan. you smear the white cream on his nose, on top of the horizontal tattoo, and massage it into his skin. then you do the same thing with his other markings, making sure they’re protected enough to shimmer in the blazing hot sun.

“i wouldn’t let you die on me anyway,” he mutters. he gets both of his hands on your exposed thighs, keeping you closer, softly rubbing his thumbs in your muscles. "are you fucking finished? i hate this," he bites, frowning. you hum, lazily smiling down at him, rubbing his frown away with your fingertips.

"you're going to be the prettiest girl on the field," you coo. you can feel his mean glare from beneath his eyelids, and you almost shiver. "you're so going to thank me in a couple of years," you add, resting your palms on his cheeks and turning his head up. he opens his eyes slowly, staring into yours intently. his thumb catches on the fluttering hem of you dress while he draws little circles on your legs. he hears his coach screaming for his team to start running, but in this moment, he doesn't care that much. maybe the heat is getting to his head. maybe the soft smile you're looking at him with is making him a little bit weak in the knees.

"wanna make cookies today? we can watch the match together, perhaps ask the brat if he wants to join too," he says, rough voice kept low, almost as if this was a you and him kind of thing. maybe he already planned to ask you to do something with him when he was talking to his friends just a couple of minutes ago. maybe he lied, telling them you were the one who chose to do something, when it's not true. maybe the way satoru is patting suguru on the back with an "i told you so" look on his face isn't casual. maybe the one he was worried about all along was himself.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with your friends?" you ask him, tilting your head, positioning your thumbs on the fake tattoos on his cheekbones. almost as if you could cover their pupils and make him see less.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with me?" he genuinely responds, a somber look on his features. you think it's the first time he doesn't have a mocking grin on his lips. you ruffle the pink hair just above his left ear.

"maybe."

[cxffecoupx]

asking to place lipstick marks on 'it'

seventeen x reader 18+, nsfw, svt down bad warnings: suggestive content, love making wc: 1.0k author's notes: such a CRAZYY thought to have, so i decided to do it :) but i cant believe it took me this long to finish writing this (read: uni is kicking my ass). anyways, wouldn't say i'm very satisfied with it, but i really hope you guys like it!! also, special thanks to @simpxxstan for giving me ideas for a few members

➼ choi seungcheol

very interested in the idea. would get so excited for this. would ask if he can select the shade of lipstick and runs to your dressing table when you agree. but most likely would end up buying a new set of lipsticks because the shade he wants 'is not there' (it's an excuse for him to buy you a new set). by the time you're able to finish your mission, you're over three rounds and he's a sweaty, moaning mess. neither of you sleep that night.

➼ yoon jeonghan

would become so smug when you suggest it?? like full on smirk on his face and just goes, "if you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just said that." but will eventually agree when he sees your boba eyes and gets excited seeing your excitement. will probably squirm and whimper because of the sensations at first, but the sex later on is crazy.

➼ hong jisoo

confused eyes. looks so adorable you end up smushing his face and kissing his lips in fondness. man is actually so clueless at first, but then ever more confused when he realizes what you meant. becomes beet red until you promise him it's just for fun and not necessary until he's okay with it, hearing which he quickly agrees cause if you're gonna have fun, why would he not indulge you? would become so adorably shy when he sees the result. makes you cum with just his fingers and mouth as thank you.

➼ moon junhui

mindblown by your idea. becomes so excited; it's like a child waiting for candy. so endeared by you that he ends up making you smooch all over his face. then he starts kissing all over your face. the lipstick marks meant for his dick end up on your faces, but neither of you could be happier than at this moment. slowly turns into a gentle love making session.

➼ kwon soonyoung

you ask him in a very usual way, but it's only after he accepts that you realize this is a great opportunity to tease him. asks if he can record it (because he's very amused by this idea) and searches for the perfect lighting and angle while you prepare. thinks he's so prepared for it, but starts shaking and pleading the moment you start kitty licking his tip. by the time you're finished, he's panting and wanting for more.

➼ jeon wonwoo

you ask him while he was gaming; he leaves the game so fast you wonder what went wrong. but then he goes and picks up a random shade of lipstick and pulls you in between his knees as he manspreads on his gaming chair. holds your hair as you work on him. hours later, the lipstick and your clothes lie forgotten by the bed.

➼ lee jihoon

wants this whole event to occur in his studio. literally agrees when you offer to come to the studio for it. he'd be acting so nonchalant but you can clearly hear his heart racing in his chest and his ears going red. also likely to voice record the whole thing with your consent to use as 'inspiration' later (will use it to get off during desperate times).

➼ lee seokmin

another one who'd get red. very shy. "woah where do you even get ideas like these?" as he goes wide-eyed and still manspreads on the couch to invite you in. goes weak in his knees when he sees you make eye contact with him as you look up from between his knees wearing a shade he considers sexy. you have to abort the mission because he ends up pushing your face few many times.

➼ kim mingyu

GIGGLY MESS. you don't understand what he's been giggling about ever since you proposed the idea, but you're currently down on your knees in front of his naked body and he just cant stop giggling??? when you ask him about it though, he says he's way too endeared by this whole task and wants you to kiss every inch of his body. so, an hour or so later, you're panting, straddling a happy mingyu who's entire body is covered with lipstick stains. time to make a new folder in your gallery.

➼ xu minghao

lowkey becomes concerned about you. he already suspected you were upto something when you approached him with a cheeky smile, but he never thought it'd be this... wild? almost instantly rejects until he sees you get down and look at him with such hopeful eyes that he cant resist. still finds it weird as you mark him, but gladly indulges you. takes photos of it (without you knowing,,, or so he thinks) because you are the artist, and he ends up liking the art a little too much.

➼ boo seungkwan

lowkey judges you first, before highkey agreeing to it. it's one of the "how dare you make stupid decisions and do them without me" moments. judgmental most of the time: "is that the shade you're choosing? it doesnt look good on my skin tone," "the lip shapes arent perfect, pucker them a little more," etc etc. after lots of advice and nagging, you finally finish the job. you get up with a satisfied smirk as you look at his pretty pink cock and his spent form.

➼ chwe vernon

deeply contemplates it. quickly nods when you say, "it's for the art" and asks for some time. leaves. comes back saying "okay, let's do it." when you ask him where he went, he goes "i had to be clean and ready." waits for you to prep for it, but almost cums then and there when he sees you naked, wearing only his favourite shade of lipstick. by the time you could finish the task, he's lost all his marbles and begs you to ride him. finishes with his cum painting your chest and stomach.

➼ lee chan

turns red as a tomato. one moment you suggest the idea, the next he has to physically pull his head outta the gutter because his thoughts escalated into something else. and no matter how hard he tries to deny that he was indeed having very mature thoughts, the blush creeping to his cheeks screams the truth. asks somewhere in between if he can mark your chest with his lipstick marks, and honestly? who are you to resist? by the end of the night, he's spent and at your mercy and you havent yet completed the task.

[yuvany]

(💄) LIPSTICK TREND WITH ENHYPEN

─── ( on 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉 ) OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff + kisses + trends / none WORD COUNT 1,124

reblogs are highly appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

you had asked him to do it with you, and he easily agreed, this seemed a lot more tame than the previous ones you had asked him to do with you. When it is time to put on the lipstick, you asked him for his opinion on what colour to use, and he said, "choose by singing eeny meeny miny moo". you giggled at this and did as he said, choosing red in the end. The process of planting kisses on his face seemed a lot more enjoyable to him than it did to you. Your lips were starting to feel numb from doing a kissy face. When you finally finished, Heeseung returned one of your many kisses. Now, it was finally time to film the tiktok, and you quickly told him what to to do, but instead of simply wiping it off, he grabbed ahold of your chin and turned your whole head his way and your stunned expression made the cut. Let's just say that the video blew up.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

"Jaayy" you cooed is name. "Yes, my love?" He replied. You proceeded to show him a video that appeared on your for you page, and Jay was confused which was evident on his face. "This is a tiktok trend. Wanna do it?" Your upbeat voice convinced him enough to agree. At your desk, Jay sat quietly as he observed what you were doing; going through your lipstick collection. He admired you, putting on lipstick over and over again, to kiss him someplace on his face, enjoying the feeling of your lips pressing against his soft skin. He mentally noted that he needed to buy you another lipstick soon, because oh dear, a lot of lipstick was used. You counted down and hit record, which somehow still caught him off-guard and he missed the corner of your lips and instead wiped your lips, this caused the two of you to burst out laughing.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He will probably be the one to ask you to do the trend with him, Jake just somehow knew that you'd ask him about it. "I was gonna ask you, but I guess." You tried to act nonchalant about it, but Jake saw past the facade. "That colour is so pretty." He points to the one you're currebtly holding. "It is, but it's too light, it won't be visible on camera." You say, and it makes him sulk. "What about that one?" This took a while, but never would you have prepared for what came next. Jake did not know that you would need to kiss his face, he just believed that he needed to swipe the lipstick across his face, so when you began preessing your lips to his skin, he genuinely believed that you were kissing him, so he kissed back. "jake! will you stop trying to make out with me?" You called out through giggles. "Wait, is this part of the trend..."

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

Does this man even need to try? He is already perfect. Sunghoon just needed to sit there prettily. You had asked him to do the trend with him, and it almost felt as if you were begging on your knees for him to do it with you. "What do I get in return?" He asked, a small smirk present on his lips. "Kisses, i suppose," you shrugged, but not being able to keep your happiness to yourself as you beamed a smile. It did not help that Sunghoon made your job harder by moving his face around while you tried to kiss his face over and over again, so you grabbed him by the chin and told him to be still, which he did, but he just began staring at you, which made you a bit self aware. Overall, the filming part went smooth, and the video gained a lot of attention, and you saw how people were commenting on how handsome Sunghoon were, and you replied to them with, "That's my man, back off."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Becomes all shy and giggly all throughout, not once was he even calm. When you asked him to do the trend with you, he didn't know what you were talking about, but after showing him a video, he gets flustered, but eventually agrees because it looked fun, and because it meant that he'd be able to spend more time with you. I'd like to think that Sunoo would be quiet while you apply your lipstick as he watches you with a shimmer in his eyes whenever he sees you, but you always try to spark up a conversation, and he can't possibly deny your offer, can you? As you pan your phone over to him, it is only showing a lipstick stained faced Sunoo with his hand above his face because he forgot the part where he wipes the lipstick off your lips. He's so giggly like a ball of sunshine.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"wonie, look." You called out, and he whipped his head around and saw your screen, he knew you well enough to understand what you were aiming at. "You wanna do this?" The shining smile on your face told him what he wanted to know. "Let's get to it then!" He pulled you by the arms right into your room. While you adore his face with your lips, he is watching the trend in loop to understand what he was supposed to do. You notice this and tell him, "Just be yourself, it's gonna be adorable!" Jungwon smiles at you and puts down his phone. Filming the video took the longest I'd say. He just can't contain his laughter, it's just something about hitting record that sets him off. Jungwon takes a deep breath and tells you that he is prepared.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Riki has got firece eyes, and he knows how to use them to his advantage. He is such a sweetheart and the people whom are going to watch the clip wouldn't know that. You asked him if he wanted to do the trend once almost a week ago, and he seemed to remember it when you didn't. "About that trend, babe..." You raise an eyebrow, eyes lit with confusion and now he has to show you the video instead. "Can I?" Riki asks when he sees that you roll up your lipstick, and you trust him enough to loan him one of your lipsticks. "Just be careful." You warn, and he knows how much you adore it. "I will." His finger is fixed under your jaw and, and you can feel the heat spread across your cheeks. You did not expect him to take this trend so seriously, and the look of awe that Riki gave you did not go unnoticed by the viewers.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[bubblegumgothglados]

How to actually train a submissive, a how to guide

+Thoughts on the pervasive misinformation surrounding punishments and their usefulness.

Step 1. Make sure your submissive actually want to be trained. I'm into dom breaking, I'm into kidnapping, I'm into all types of situations where you forcibly change a person into the perfect submissive. But that's all fantasy, and they're fun fantasies to play out with willing participants. (Yeah i know this is pretty obvious stuff, everyone should know this already, but it is an important first step and it cant hurt to repeat)

Step 2. Pick a goal. The perfect example is getting them to take their pills at the same time each day. Its something they already want to do, its something that will benefit them greatly, its something that's very obviously pass/ fail, and its simple. Those are the criteria for a good behaviour to modify (with "want to do" flipped to "don't want to do" if its a behaviour you're trying to stop). The fewer of those things are true the more difficult its going to be to get the desired result, not impossible mind you but more difficult. As you and your submissive gain experience and become more comfortable with this process you can begin to modify more complex behaviours, but keep it simple to start.

Step 3. DO reward success, DO NOT punish failure. I'm gonna let myself rant about this at the end of this guide but for the moment just believe me when i say punishments are not a useful tool in training. So reward them every time the succeed. The best rewards are small things that stimulate the pleasure centre of their brain. Praise is a great place to start, stickers, snacks, tiny animal erasers, maybe shiny treasures if they have corvid like proclivities. Whatever it is make sure you give it to them personally, make sure you show you're genuinely happy with them, and make sure its something they cant get or aren't allowed to have otherwise. If the do fail (and they will sometimes) don't reward them, don't punish them, and don't let them punish themself. They want to be good for you, they will take failure hard. You need to make sure they know failure isn't a bad thing, everyone fails sometimes especially when starting to learn something. You need to reassure them that you're not angry or sad or upset and especially not disappointed.

Step 4. Be consistent. Reward them every time until they have a perfect record for a significant period of time. The specifics of this depend too much on the specifics of the behaviour and the reward so i wont try to give guidelines. Once they have that perfect track record start reducing the frequency of the rewards, stress to them that this isn't a punishment this is a really good thing. It means the training is working and they should be proud of themself and you are proud of them. Once you've weaned them off of the reward all together give them a big reward as a congratulations. And then sporadically reward them as a reminder that you're proud of them and to keep the habit strong. If the behaviour begins to drift you might need to go back and start rewarding them again, this shouldn't be seen as failure, its a normal part of training.

Step 5. Start again. Do they still want to be trained or are they happy with where they are? Is there another behaviour you want to modify? Is it time to try a more difficult modification? Do you need to switch up the reward to keep them motivated? Do you have the bandwidth to be consistent?

Finally here is the as promised rant about punishment.

A note on brats. Specifically type 3 brats as described in THIS post. None of my advice changes. They still want to be good for you they just also want to play a fun game with you. Enjoy the fun game and train them to improve their lives. Just, don't try to train them out of being a brat, they're enjoying their game don't take away something that they enjoy, if you don't want a brat don't get with a brat.

To the submissive reading this. You don't deserve to be punished, you never deserved to be punished. Even if you were a "problem" child you didn't deserve to be hurt for it. You still don't deserve to be hurt in ways you don't want to be. To the dominant reading this, yes you can rule through fear it is possible, but gods why?! If your ultimate goal isn't for your sub to be as happy and self fulfilled as possible, whatever that looks like for them, then what the fuck are you doing. And aside from that punishment isn't even an effective method of training. A dog kicked whenever it barks will learn to fear you and wont bark around you. A child spanked whenever you feel they've done something wrong will learn to resent you and will hide everything from you. An adult punished for stealing will learn to steal more effectively. Your submissive is no different from any of those examples. Kill the cop in your head, stop thinking of punishment as a legitimate means of control.

[zyafics-recs]

i know this gonna break my heart... sigh... taking deep breaths... let's go ⬇️

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

first and foremost, i love the characterization of rafe. something about ur interpretation of him feels so lively and real, especially because it relates to his canon. when i was reading thru his thoughts, i was like, woah, rafe would act this way.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

i love the line throwing grenades, waiting for who to blow up first. ur metaphors have always been some of my favorites, so i always love highlighting and pointing it out <3

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty. 

i love the turn of internal conflict, that rafe - who has always been loyal as a dog to ward - can have his own conflicting emotions about his father

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect.  To Rafe, that meant something. Everything

but at the end of the day, rafe recognizes that he has to set his father on a pedestal because that's all he's ever done. all he'll ever do.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

that actually hurts, the idea that you're dissociating, going somewhere where he can't follow u? oh the miseryyy

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that. 

i love u pointing out the validation-seeking 🙂‍↕️

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

this is such a bitter moment, but it's also shows how rafe just reverts back to his younger self in the presence of his father. that even if ward's death, he will continue to haunt the narrative. also, "shit, that was something, wasn't it?" was such a bitter realization.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

HE SAW HIS FATHER

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

i love the depiction of seeing rafe as nothing more than a prop, an entertainment for the rest of the kooks. it gives u this zoo-like viewing of rafe rather than human.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

he's so protective over his father

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.” 

I LOVE HER FOR THIS SOMETHING ABOUT THIS OWNS MY HEART

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

she's real and she should speak on it

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

i love her but god that must've hurt

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

i love that he only picked up the things that he hears, not the fact that he's blind to see it, but rather accusing him of being "dumb"

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

he has such self-destructive tendencies omg

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

i love their arguments so much, because it's so bitter, and resentful, and sharp and it cuts so deep. that's one of my favorite things about this series, is when they're talking, they're going all in

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

SOMETHINGS WRONG GO HELP HER

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting? 

my favorite line

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

he's hurt too (but he's a dick) but he's hurt too 🥹

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here? 

i love the lingering love, especially because i believe rafe to be the type of person who cannot mourn loss whatsoever, he keeps it in his chest forever, when he loves someone, he'll love them forever

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

ONE OF THE BANGER LINES OF THIS PART AHHH

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

oooo i love this, sometimes i be forgetting they're toxic.

💌 — i love love their argument in this one. i love how u manage to capture rafe's essence with this characterization, especially post-ward, because i often don't read a lot of fics with ward being a dead presence but haunting the narrative. and that make rafe's viewpoint so conflicting, especially since he's trying to grieve but come to terms on who his father is. i absolutely love how u build up to their breaking point, because they have all these things festering under the surface that neither are willing to talk about until someone breaks, and that's how their relationship dynamic is. every time we get to see an insider scope of rafe's head, i am amazed, because the way he analyzes things, flowing from one thought to the next, makes sense. he's insecure, he's grieving, he's angry, and all of these emotions are hitting him at full-force and no one is allowing him the proper space to actually deal with them—especially because ward never did. and when their argument was just bitter shots at one another, just to hurt each other, you know it hurt. oh oh, gigi, u amaze and fascinate me so much!!

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIX

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;

Rafe had been clean for the past three years.

Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing. 

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.

It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours. 

Until Ward died. 

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty. 

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect. 

To Rafe, that meant something. Everything. 

Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.

At first, you were there for him, no question. 

He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.

You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around. 

After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.

For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it. 

Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that. 

He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.

Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.

After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.

If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat. 

It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.

This was different, a slower, quieter process.

Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.

So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that? 

He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

Grounded.

Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.

You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything. 

Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.

She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.

But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.

He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”

It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.

“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”

The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.

“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”

Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face. 

“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”

You were mad at him.

It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.” 

There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.

As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.

His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.

By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you. 

You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.

He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.

“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.

“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.

“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”

He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.

“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”

“I know what you deserve.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”

“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.

“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"

You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.

His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.

He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.

“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”

"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”

Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”

You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.

That was it.

Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.

He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you. 

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.

He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting? 

No, no, no.

Sofia was what he needed.

Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights. 

She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.

He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.

It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it. 

So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. 

Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.

Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have. 

He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.

Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her. 

“I’m here because she called me.”

“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”

Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.

“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”

“Go away. I’m driving her home.”

She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.

“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”

“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”

He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.

But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.

“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”

Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.

It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came. 

His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.

Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.

You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.

But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.

He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital. 

Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.

His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here? 

Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.

Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.

But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?

This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.

He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system. 

He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.

If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.

He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him. 

You’ll just prove her right.

He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push. 

As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.

He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.

"Wake the fuck up."

He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”

But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.

“What the hell happened?”

Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.

Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”

Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.

Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.

“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”

If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm. 

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.

Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.

She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Hi.”

You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?” 

You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”

She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”

She’d made him leave.

You could imagine his face distorted with anger.

You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away,  giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.

You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.

“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.” 

Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.

You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.

Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.

“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”

You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”

“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”

You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”

There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.

You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.

Not like this, with the IV in your arm.

"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”

This.

You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside. 

“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”

Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”

“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to. 

“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”

You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.

This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.

"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.

Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.

“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.

But it didn’t. 

You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away. 

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation. 

Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.

You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"

You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.

“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."

“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.

“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”

Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”

You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.

“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.

“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”

Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”

“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”

She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.

“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”

You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”

She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”

When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.

You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.” 

The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.

She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.

You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.

And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.

“Thank you.”

And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[noira-l]

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Satoru faces the terrifying possibility of losing you because of someone else’s reckless mistake, but he manages to save you, bringing you back from the edge. Every touch, every word is filled with tenderness, his relief palpable as he steadies you, feeds you, and ensures you feel his warmth beside you.

warnings: near death experience from reader, description of wounds and limbs, blood, first aid (more or less adequate), "hospital" experience, Satoru is a menace (in general and to someone), hurt/comfort (a lot), a lot of caring from Satoru, full blown princess treatment for reader, pet names (princess), he is still teasing but worried.

author's note: This chapter is a little longer than I expected, but I hope you will still enjoy it c:

You lay sprawled on the floor.

Your breaths coming in ragged gasps, the taste of blood sharp and metallic on your tongue.

The ground beneath you felt warm.

You couldn't move your arm, you totally lost contact with the torn tissue. Your non-dominant hand tried to plug the hole that had formed at your abdomen.

Blood pooled around you, thick and dark, clinging to your skin and clothes, spreading beneath your body like ink on paper. Coldness began to creep in, sinking through your muscles, and with it, an unbearable heaviness.

Everything hurt you, it hurt so much.

You were so tired, sleep clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering promises of release.

You knew you didn't have much time.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye one last time, far away, to the exit of the domain that you made so that everyone could escape. Not everyone made it, you didn't have enough strength to hold the way of escape. People screamed and fled deeper into the dark, chased by the curse - leaving you alone.

With a quivering hand slick with blood, you managed to grab your phone, its surface smudged and smeared from your grip. Your thumb trembled as you unlocked the screen, the faint glow casting pale light onto your weary face.

You dialled the first number from your recent calls.

It's worth a try, maybe this domain is still weak enough that the phone signal will manage to get through.

Even the phone seemed heavy to you. You could feel yourself slowly choking as blood rushed to your throat from internal bleeding.

The call connected, and his voice filled your ear, casual, warm, blissfully unaware.

"Hey~ Relax, I know what you're calling for. I can cook that ramen. Got the recipe right here. I've got it all under control!" in the background, you could hear the shuffle of kitchen utensils, the clinking of pots and pans. There was comfort in that sound, familiar, so ordinary.

"Sato…ru.." you rasped, your voice barely more than a breath, your mouth filling with blood as you struggled to speak.

The noise on his end stilled in an instant. Silence fell, tense and sharp.

"Where are you?" his voice was hard, worried, so different from the playful tone he’d used just seconds before.

You tried to answer, but your throat was full, each breath a struggle against the liquid heat rising up, drowning your words.

You managed to roll onto your side. You hissed as you shifted, pressing weight onto your injured arm. Blood escaped from your throat, allowing you to speak a little.

“Civilians... inside the domain..." you whispered, voice thin and fragile, every syllable a labor of will "Two curses.... the other still... lives..." you could hear a sharp clatter from his end, something falling, maybe a knife or a spoon, maybe something heavier, but it was all blending into the haze.

"Where are you, answer me (Y/N)!"

But you didn't listen, trying to gave him important information before your gone.

"Hit the mirror..." you coughed ".. when your done, it's outside."

"Damn it! Answer me!"

"I'm.. not gonna make it.." you paused, feeling your consciousness slipping away "I’m so sorry, ‘toru…" you whispered, dropping your phone on the floor.

Darkness closed in, thick and final, but just before it claimed you, you thought you heard him calling your name, his voice taut and desperate, reaching through the static

★ --

"Shoko! Get over here, now!"

The hospital doors flew open as he appeared, and he didn’t bother to hold back his voice, shouting Shoko’s name with a force that echoed down the sterile hallways

The intensity was enough to scatter anyone who dared cross his path, medical staff and sorcerers alike stepping back, wide-eyed and fearful as Satoru strode forward, not slowing, his face an icy mask of resolve.

"Get out of my way!" he snapped at anyone lingering in the halls, his voice sharp and carrying a barely controlled fury.

Despite his quite controlled exterior, his mind was racing, worry clawing at him like he’d never known. His thoughts clung to the what-ifs, the questions he never let himself think but now couldn’t ignore.

Had he made it in time?

He looked at you.

You looked like a small, battered doll. Your eyes almost lifeless, your expression petrified. The cursed energy in your body barely glimmered. He hugged you tighter to himself, pulling your limbs tighter to hold you even tighter.

"Hold on, please - we're almost there." he murmured, more to himself than to you

Please, please, please stay with me.

He turned to the left corridor.

He found her, and relief mingled with his urgency. Shoko took one look at you in his arms, the blood trailing from your side, the limp, lifeless way your arm hung by a thread, and her face paled, a steely focus settling into her gaze.

"Put her down here." Shoko ordered, snapping out of her shock.

She had no time for questions, no time for explanations. She turned to her assistants, barking orders with a precision born of experience "Prep the room. I’ll need blood transfusions - check her chart, sutures, cursed energy patches - everything we have."

Satoru laid you down on the nearest examination bed, his movements almost mechanical, though the tremor in his hands betrayed the turmoil within him. He stepped back only enough to allow Shoko space to work, his jaw clenched as he watched her assess your injuries.

The assistant returned with everything Shoko had ordered.

"Do you know how much blood she's lost?" she asked hurriedly, putting on gloves and a face mask.

"A lot" was all he could say.

She began with your shoulder, examining the nearly severed arm hanging grotesquely by a strip of muscle and skin. Blood soaked through her gloves as she lifted the limb carefully, eyes dark with concentration.

“Her arm is barely attached,” she muttered under her breath, reaching for a clamp to stem the blood flow “The wound is extensive, torn straight through muscle and tendons.”

Shoko’s assistant hovered nearby, their faces set in grim concentration as they handed her the tools she needed.

"Stop the bleeding in the lower abdomen." ordering one of the astists, she turned to the other "And you start the transfusions."

Satoru stayed silent, his gaze fixed on you, his body taut as he watched her work.

Shoko’s hands moved deftly, sealing off the worst of the blood loss with a cursed energy barrier, pressing her hands to the wound as she worked to restore circulation to your arm. Her reverse cursed technique glowed faintly, a steady stream of healing energy pulsing through your battered shoulder as she mended the torn tendons, weaving muscle fibers back together with meticulous care. The procedure was painstaking, every inch of the damage requiring careful attention, but Shoko’s focus was unshakable.

She had to stabilise you - that was the priority.

Then her hands took care of your stomach.

It took maybe 5-7 minutes, however, for Satoru everything lasted like hours. He had to stand and watch as a group of people covered the view of you.

"How bad is it?" his voice broke through the silence, rough and strained. He wanted any information. Any confirmation that he had made it in time.

Shoko glanced up, her expression guarded. “She’s lost a lot of blood. The damage is severe." she was specific and gave facts. As usual. There was no point in lying to him.

“This..." she traced the torn flesh of your shoulder carefully "It’s so close to major arteries. We’re lucky she made it this far."

Satoru’s fists clenched, his gaze dark as he watched her press a gauze pad to your side, the blood staining it immediately.

"I got here as fast as I could." he murmured, barely more than a whisper, his voice laced with an emotion he seldom showed.

He drifted away in thought for a moment.

Slipping into his mind.

The room seemed too bright and the blood everywhere too dark. The noise of the medical machines was disturbed by the sound of his pounding heart.

His gaze lingered on the trail of blood just below his feet, leading directly to your bed. He watched the small spots on the floor, and observe as they getting bigger, literally growing before his eyes, consuming his shoes.

The sight of your body in a pool of blood flashed through his mind.

Over, and over, and over.

And over again.

Shoko's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

To her, Satoru simply stood with his head bowed down, stone-faced.

"Gojo. Her condition is stable. Please wait outside, I will take care of everything now."

Satoru noded, his shoulders slumping.

He moved closer to the bed, he put his hand on your palm, squeezing it lightly, before turning to Shoko.

"Thank you, Shoko." he murmured, his voice barely audible.

He glanced at you again before leaving the room, watching you disappear again behind a curtain of people who were trying to keep you alive.

He knew what he had to do now.

★ --

Satoru appeared after a while in the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor as he walked.

An energy pulsed off him in waves.

The air around him felt charged, almost volatile, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by something colder, something that made those nearby shrink back. His gaze was concealed behind the bandages, his expression was unreadable, a stone mask that gave nothing away.

From her spot by the wall, Shoko watched him with a wary gaze, a cigarette still held between her fingers as she blew out a last puff of smoke.

Her hard work has paid off - she has stabilised you.

She took in the scene as he approached - the smears of blood staining his jacket, the dark flecks of cursed energy lingering in the air around him, and the deep, cold set of his jaw. She could only imagine the wreckage he’d left behind, the remnants of whatever curse had dared to harm you.

As he neared her, he drew a white handkerchief from his pocket, unfolding it with calm precision. Shoko’s eyes followed the movement, noting the slight tremor in his fingers as he began methodically wiping away the purple blood splattered across his hands.

He moved slowly, almost obsessively, wiping each knuckle, each crease, as if trying to erase every trace of what he’d done.

"Did it suffer?" she asked.

Satoru finished wiping his hands, folding the bloodstained cloth neatly before pocketing it. He didn’t answer immediately.

"More than enough." he replied after a while, his voice like steel.

The famous Gojo Satoru getting his hands dirty.

He glanced back toward your room, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. The fury that had burned in him faded, replaced by the exhaustion.

"Can I… see her?" his voice was low, uncharacteristically tentative.

Shoko nodded "Yes, the worst is over, she’s sleeping now."

"Thank you - again." he gave her a nod.

Without thinking, he approached the door and pulled gently on the handle, entering the room quietly.

Shoko saw that for a moment, he was the man who'd rushed to your side, not the sorcerer who’d torn through curses with cold precision.

★ --

The soft hum of teleportation barely registered as Satoru reappeared in his own home, the familiar surroundings both grounding and jarring. The scent of something burnt hit his nose first, and then he noticed the plume of smoke curling up from the kitchen. His stomach sank. He’d left the ramen on the stove, the pot now emitting a dark, acrid smell.

"Do you have any idea what you almost did!?" Megumi yelled, his tone sharp "You left the ramen on the stove - almost burned down the kitchen!"

Satoru opened his mouth to respond, maybe to offer a laugh or a joke, but the words died as Megumi's gaze softened, his expression changing as he took in Satoru’s face. The stone face, the faint streaks of blood on his collar, the tension that lingered despite his attempts to relax. Megumi’s scolding faded, and worry took its place. Tsumiki who appeared next to him had the same look on her young face.

"I’m sorry about the ramen, kiddo. I was… distracted. Something happened." Satoru’s tone shifted, calm and steady, though a note of heaviness remained "There was an accident. Your mom... she got hurt pretty badly, but she’s in good hands now. She’s being taken care of."

Both kids froze, their faces mirroring an all-too-familiar look of fear. Tsumiki’s hands flew to her mouth, and Megumi’s normally composed demeanor broke, his eyes wide "Is she going to be okay?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Can we see her?" Tsumiki asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes." Satoru assured them, placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders "She’s stable now. She’s safe." he paused, his voice softening as he added "You’ll be able to see her soon. I’ll take you both to visit her in a day or two, once she’s rested a bit. Or maybe she'll even be home by then."

The kids nodded, though their expressions were still clouded with worry. He offered them a head pat and reassuring smile, one that felt fragile even as he gave it, before excusing himself to gather a few things for you.

Satoru went to your shared room, pulling together a bag of things you’d want with you. He packed the essentials - clean clothes, hygiene products, a book you hadn’t finished yet with the worn bookmark you always used. His hand lingered over his softest pair of socks, slipping them into the bag because he knew how cold you got in clinic rooms. He added a few of your favorite snacks, the ones you always reached for on the top shelf, and finally, a small cushion from the couch that still held a trace of your favorite scent. He knew these were just small things, but they felt like tiny comforts he could offer to make you feel a little less alone when you wake up.

After he’d packed everything, Satoru paused in the quiet of the apartment. The kids had gone to bed, their lingering glances filled with worry and questions they hadn’t voiced.

He took a deep breath, trying to quiet the aftershocks of fear and anger that had burned through him. His fingers curled around the strap of the bag, as though anchoring himself in the thought of seeing you again, of bringing these small tokens of home to you.

He tried everything to prevent his mind from racing again.

With one last glance at the quiet apartment, he teleported back to your hospital room.

★ --

Light, more brightness.

More noise.

And more pain.

Your eyes flutter open, everything slowly coming into focus. A heaviness settles over your body, a dull ache throbbing in every limb. As you shift slightly, you catch sight of the IV needle taped to your hand, a soft bandage wrapped around the other, the skin numb, likely due to the strong meds they’d pumped into your system.

You exhale, bracing yourself as you slowly rise into a semi-sitting position, feeling the stiffness in your muscles protesting with every movement.

You made it through.

You're alive.

He saved you.

You knew it, you didn't see or feel him coming for you, yet only he would be able to get to you so quickly. No one else would have been able to help you.

Gratitude wells up inside you, mingled with the lingering haze of exhaustion. You don't know how to thank him. You would like to repay him in every bit of your existance.

You feel like you could lie there for hours, let the heaviness of sleep pull you back under. But, despite it all, you can’t ignore the small flicker of relief that you’re still here.

You survived today to die tomorrow.

It’s been an hour or maybe two when you tried to be awake - time’s hard to gauge in this half-dazed state.

The thought crosses your mind - just how long did you sleep?

You squint at the dim light seeping into the room, but there’s no sense of time here.

You start to egzaminate yourself.

Your dominant hand feels strange, disconnected - it’s there, resting on the blanket, but no matter how much you try, you can barely move it. The faintest twitches respond to your will, but there’s almost no control, like it’s not quite part of you. It’s unsettling, a reminder that your body has been through more than it can comfortably handle.

You pull the duvet, taking in the scattering of bruises and scratches that color your legs, each one a map of the recent battle. Carefully, you place your other hand on your hip, fingers brushing over a new scar, raised and raw, but without the sharpness of stitches. You can touch it, sure, and yet your senses are muted, dulled under the weight of painkillers coursing through your system. There’s a heaviness in your head too, a sluggishness, that made you almost sloppy.

It's not so bad - you need to thank Shoko. You could feel that she's not finished yet, she probably didn't have the strength anymore, so she made what she could.

At least you had an arm, right?

A glance around the room brings your eyes to the chair beside the small cupboard. On it sits a familiar black bag, half-zipped, with the fabric bulging slightly from the careful packing. Resting on the cupboard is your book, its cover worn, your favorite bookmark peeking out from between the pages. A small smile tugs at your lips despite the discomfort.

You reach toward the bag, tugging it closer, the weight of it almost too much as your fingers dig into the straps. With effort, you haul it onto the bed, wincing as the motion tugs at sore muscles. Slowly, carefully, you unzip it, peeling back the top to reveal neatly folded fabrics inside. Clean clothes, hygiene products, snacks, a big sweater that’s unmistakably Satoru’s, and a pair of warm socks - those oversized ones you’d always borrowed.

You smile, the simple sight of them lifting your spirits just a little. Satoru’s little touches are everywhere in this moment; he’d thought of every detail. With a bit of effort, you tug on the socks, feeling their warmth, thanking him for thinking of your poor, cold limbs.

You looked at the sweater.

Your gaze shifts to the doorway, lingering a moment to ensure no one is around. The hall outside is empty, and the door to your room is slightly ajar, but not a soul is passing by. Satisfied, you turn back to Satoru’s sweater, drawing it closer, letting your fingers sink into the soft fabric, drowning in the scent of his cologne mixing with something unmistakably him - a warm, comforting aroma that always brings you a sense of calm.

It’s not your fault he smells so perfect; you’d picked out that cologne yourself, after all, and it suits him like nothing else.

You allow yourself a quiet smile, eyes still closed, feeling both comforted and amused at how easily his scent seems to chase away the chill of the room.

Gritting your teeth, you try to sit up, sliding your legs slowly toward the edge of the bed. A hiss escapes your lips as the pain bites sharply, sending a wave of discomfort through your side. You pause, steadying yourself, breathing through the sensation. You see that he brought you disposable flip-flops, that were lying next to this side of the bed.

You’re just getting used to the discomfort when Shoko enters the room, her expression composed, professional, her posture radiating a calm authority. There’s a brief flicker of warmth in her eyes as she sees you awake, but it’s quickly replaced by her focused, clinical gaze. For a moment, you’re not her friend lying here in a hospital bed but her patient.

She steps closer, her eyes sweeping over you with that practiced precision, assessing every visible sign of injury.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice soft yet purposeful, each word measured, carrying an undercurrent of genuine concern.

"I’m… here." you manage, letting out a weak chuckle "Can barely feel my hand, though. Just feels… dull. Heavy, I guess. Thank you for saving me."

She nods, her brow furrowing as she shifts to examine your hand. Her touch is careful, her fingertips pressing lightly along your arm, tracing the lines where numbness blurs into sensation.

"No problem. You’re feeling dullness in the hand?" she repeats, more to herself than to you, her mind clearly already analyzing what’s needed.

"Yeah, like I know it’s there, but it’s not exactly responding the way it should" you explain, trying to move your fingers slightly but finding only minimal response.

Shoko mutters something under her breath, her gaze fixed on the IV as she reaches to adjust it.

"Alright, I’m putting this drip on hold for now." she announces, her tone shifting briefly into one of practiced command. She carefully unfastens the line, leaving the cannula still in place "I don’t want to remove this completely yet. I’ll need it again tomorrow. For now, though, I want things to stabilize a bit on their own."

You watch her work, noticing the subtle exhaustion in her movements "So… you’ll take care of it tomorrow?" you ask, curiosity slipping into your voice.

Like, you want to have an a functioning arm - if it's avaiable?

She nods, her gaze softening for a moment as she steps back, folding her arms and glancing at the IV "Yes. Your arm should start feeling more normal by then, but I need to let things knit together a little first. And, honestly…" she pauses, rubbing her eyes briefly "I don’t have the strength right now. I’ll be more useful tomorrow, after I get some rest. I'm sorry."

You thank her and study her, seeing the weight of her own exhaustion etched faintly in the way she holds herself, the way she sometimes blinks a little longer than usual. Her commitment to her work is unmistakable, but you catch the signs that even she is running low.

"How long did I sleep, anyway?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"Almost two days." she replies, her voice calm, matter-of-fact. Her gaze shifts back to you, assessing your response as though you might suddenly react to the news.

Your brows rise "Two days? That’s… a long time."

Shoko shakes her head slightly.

"Not really. Honestly, after the state you were in, I thought you might be out for a week." she crosses her arms, her gaze steady "You lost a lot of blood, and you nearly lost a limb. Two days is impressive recovery for you."

You nod slowly, absorbing her words, realizing how close you must have come to something worse. The weight of it settles on you, a quiet reminder of just how lucky you are to still be here.

"So… Satoru’s out on a mission?" you ask, hoping to change the subject, if only to lighten the mood a bit.

Shoko reaches up, twirling a strand of her hair thoughtfully "He left a few hours ago. But he should be back later. He sat by your side the whole time." her gaze flickers to the door, as if expecting him to walk in at any moment.

You nod, a small, relieved sigh escaping you "Understand."

You wonder what the kids must feel. They probably know about your condition.

Shoko settles into a chair beside your bed, glancing down at her notes, then back up at you. There’s a hint of something in her gaze - frustration mixed with lingering concern. She takes a breath, her voice soft but firm.

"It's a miracle, really. You almost didn't make it." she says, her tone steady, but her eyes hold a fierceness that surprises you "All because someone couldn't do thier job correctly."

Your brows furrow as you try to recall the details of the mission, piecing together what you remember. Everything comes back in flashes.

Endo Kyō, the assistant who was assigned to you and participated in that mission with you.

By your arrival, his job was to secure the area and assess the threat. According to his analysis, there was a grade one curse in the domain.

In fact, there were two curses in the domain. However, you had no idea about this.

One was trapped in the domain of the other - the one that attacked you first inside, wasn't responsible for the domain. You knew something was wrong when, after killing this one, the domain didn't start to disintegrate. You thought it was a matter of place or vail that the assistant should apply. Through the effect of the domain, you were unable to effectively sense the presence of the other one on time.

You were outclassed.

The second curse emerged just as you were making a hole in the shell so that civilians could safely leave the area.

You got hit, unable to dodge the attack.

"He seemed fine as a person, maybe a little weird. He's new, mistakes happen. Like... I remember my beginnings. He'll learn." you sigh resignedly.

Shoko’s expression sharpens, a seriousness in her eyes that makes you pause "He’s not new." she says flatly.

"Huh?"

"He originally worked in Kyoto. He was transferred here after a similar incident, a really similar case." you listened in disbelief, looking at Shoko with wide eyes.

"And..." she continued "Because he has connections with higher-ups, it was decided to transfer him disciplinary to our grounds, rather than dismiss him for his apparent negligence." her words sink in like a stone, leaving you in stunned silence.

You stare at her, the shock sinking in like ice. Your fists clench at your sides, the dull ache in your hand momentarily forgotten as your fingers press into your palm. You are livid.

What a fucking asshole.

Shoko watches you, her own expression dark.

"Well... Gojo had an even worse reaction." she says quietly, glancing down as if recalling the scene.

"What do you mean?"

"Gojo found out what Endo did not long after you were brought in." she begins.

Oh no.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that. He marched right up to Endo and tore into him. It was… intense." she stated "He didn’t even gave him a chance to speak before he cornered him, demanding to know if he had any sense of care at all. Told him that as a assisnant, he should take his comrades’ lives as seriously as he takes his own and that his failure is just as spectacularly dumb as he is."

She goes on, eyes narrowing "He pointed out every mistake and every omission to him as if he had no filter. I guess he controled himself a little at least, because he looked like he was fighting not to snap. The guy nearly passed out there."

You couldn't believe what you were just hearing.

"In the end he said something along the lines that if he saw him near his wife again - he won't hold back and won't care if someone is watching, he'll just kill him on the spot."

★ --

After some time a pang of hunger twists in your stomach, and the uncomfortable reminder that you’ll need the bathroom soon follows.

You try to get up again, struggling with the same discomfort as before.

"Oh no~ The sleeping beauty is already up and I missed the wake-up kiss." you heard his voice behind you. You chuckled weakly. He goes around your bed.

Despite his lighthearted words, you can sense the undercurrent of concern beneath them. You can see it more when he comes closer a heaviness, a weight that’s hard to miss.

"You really shouldn’t be getting up, princess." he murmurs, his fingers gentle and lingering as they steady your shaking body "Wouldn't want you losing a glass slipper on the way to the bathroom, would we?"

You roll your eyes, managing a faint laugh "Wrong princess, you dork. You don't have to help me, I'll manage somehow, you did enough for me." you try to be polite, but a hiss escape your lips, when you stand for a first time.

"Consider it royal decree: this dork is helping you, no arguments." he replies, slipping his arm more firmly around you despite your protest, his playful tone does little to mask the concern in his eyes as he holds you steady.

Together, you make your way out into the corridor, Satoru guiding you carefully, matching his steps to your slower pace. His hand never leaves you, and he keeps glancing over, checking on you, asking if you’re alright, if anything’s hurting more than it should. You answer quietly, pointing out the sharper aches and the duller bruises. The warmth of his arm around you, his attention, feels steadying, grounding you in a way that’s as comforting as it is unusual.

But of course he had to tease you a little bit.

"You know, for a princess, you’re not exactly gliding gracefully down the hall. Need me to summon some royal attendants to carry you on a velvet throne?"

You scoff, wincing slightly as another sharp ache flares up "No throne required. I’ll walk, thank you very much."

He chuckles, adjusting his hold on you "Brave as ever. But if you start fading from exhaustion, I’m totally picking you up. Wouldn’t want you fainting and having to explain to the entire staff how their little Sleeping Beauty managed to end up on the floor."

You roll your eyes, his teasing both comforting and mildly embarrassing "They’d have to call you Prince Charming in that case, huh?"

Satoru grins, dramatically flicking an imaginary cape over his shoulder "I knew you saw it in me. But don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine with just ‘Your Highness’ for now. ‘Prince Charming’ can wait for special occasions."

The faint murmur of clinic activity surrounds you, and as the two of you walk through the corridor, you catch a few people glancing your way, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Satoru doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care. He’s focused on you, steadying you with each step, his hand firm yet gentle on your side.

His words are teasing, playfull as ever. But his touch is delicate, caring - and it's making your heart flutter.

When no one’s around, you feel his fingers subtly adjusting the back of your hospital gown, and though he doesn’t mention it, you know it’s his quiet way of looking out for you.

When you finally reach the bathroom, he stops just outside, his arm slipping away but his gaze fixed on you with an almost exaggerated seriousness "Now, don’t go pulling a Cinderella and sneaking away, alright? I’ll be here if you need me to hold your royal gown or anything. Very dignified service - I’m quite experienced."

You chuckle despite yourself, finding his lighthearted support surprisingly pleasant "Yeah, sure, I’ll call my ‘knight in shining armor’ if I need any bathroom assistance."

He smirks, leaning casually against the wall "Good. Because a princess should never have to face a hallway alone."

You linger in the bathroom a moment, catching your reflection in the small, unflattering mirror. Your face stares back, hollowed with exhaustion, skin pale and dull under the fluorescent light. Your hair clings in greasy strands, reminding you just how long you’ve been out. It's strange seeing yourself this way - vulnerable, worn down, every bruise and shadow a testament to the last ordeal. Your outfit must be pretty ridiculous too with his oversize sweater, hospital gown, oversized socks and slippers.

Your look is not very princess-like.

You wonder if you should talk to him about what happends now.

However, you conclude that it is better to wait until you return from your meal so that you can talk to him in peace, unless he is called away on a mission.

When you step out, Satoru’s waiting right there, his hand reaching out to take yours. The familiar warmth of his touch steadies you, grounding you once more.

"What else does my princess need?" he teases softly, his tone light yet gentle "A breakfast feast? A little pampering session?" you pass him a tired smile, there’s still a glint of mischief in his tone "How about I whisk you off to your favorite ramen place? I could get us there in two seconds flat."

"As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think I could handle being teleported just yet. And I don't like it that much." you laugh, shaking your head. You wouldn't go anywhere in this outfit anyway.

"Right." he nods, pretending to think it over "Hmm. Guess the royal express is on hold today. "he says with a mock sigh of disappointment "Alright, we’ll go with the classic approach - school cafeteria it is. Nothing but the finest cuisine for you."

It's been a long time since you ate food from the school canteen. You wonder if it's as dull and bland, as it was back in your school days.

With a reassuring squeeze, he guides you down the corridor, his arm firmly around you as you both navigate to the a small room. A tiny, cramped and bright room, with a few tables, coffe maschine and a microwave, where the medical assistants usually take their meals. The antiseptic smell is a sharp contrast to the warmth of his arm and his steady presence beside you, as though he’s somehow blocking out the cold, sterile atmosphere.

When you reach the cafeteria, he gently seats you on one free table. He gently steers you into a seat, his hands lingering for a moment as if making sure you’re settled.

"Now, stay put." he commands lightly"Can’t have the princess fainting. I’ll be back in a flash."

You take a moment, resting your head back against the seat, allowing the gentle hum of the cafeteria to settle around you. It’s oddly peaceful here, the faint murmur of voices blending with the rhythmic clatter of dishes.

It’s only a few moments before he’s back, a tray laden with food and drinks balanced effortlessly in his hands. He grins, setting it down with a flourish "Behold, a feast fit for a princess." he declares, gesturing grandly to a couple of steaming bowls of soup, a small pile of rice, orange chcicken and some kind of dessert.

You raise an eyebrow, but you smile a little anyway "I think you might be confusing 'princess' with 'army,' but thank you."

"Look, every princess deserves options. You don’t know what royal cravings might strike once you start eating." he starts to lay everything out on a small table.

You laugh, the sound softer than usual but genuine "Well, I appreciate the royal treatment."

His gaze softens, the usual teasing glint tempered by something warmer "You deserve it." he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You're looking at him, your eyes a little wide, you're holding on a little blush.

You give Satoru a grateful smile as he hands you the cutlery, and you gave each other quick "Itadakimasu" before digging in. Satoru starts eating right away, taking his first bite with his usual relaxed ease, but as you reach for your chopsticks with your non-dominant hand, reality sinks in quickly.

After a few frustrating tries, you reach for the spoon, hoping it’ll be easier, only to watch a scoop of soup drip right back into the bowl.

Well.. this is embarresing.

Satoru’s gaze flicks to you, catching the small, defeated sigh you let out as you set the spoon down. Quietly, he puts his chopsticks aside and shifts his chair closer, his expression warm and amused as he leans in without a word.

You glance at him, brow raised in surprise "What are you doing?"

"What’s it look like?" he murmurs, reaching for the spoon and swirling it through the soup with exaggerated elegance "Need a hand, princess?"

You raise a brow, a mix of embarrassment and exasperation flooding through you "Satoru, you don’t have to - "

"Oh, but I’m honored to assist." he interrupts, holding the spoon up with a little flourish "A princess deserves only the finest dining experience, after all." his grin is maddeningly playful as he offers the spoon to you "Now, I believe it’s customary for royalty to accept help gracefully."

Heat rises to your cheeks, but your stomach growls in agreement, much to his amusement. He raises an eyebrow, clearly delighting in your hesitation "See? Your stomach’s on board. Now, let’s get you to eat."

Reluctantly, you lean forward, taking the spoonful he offers, trying to ignore how closely he’s watching you. You know it, even if you don't see his eyes, you could feel them on you. The warmth of the soup is comforting, but his actions - soft yet mischievous - truly catches you off guard. He scoops up another spoonful, waiting patiently. You feel the gaze of everyone in the room on you. Satoru seems to ignore it.

"This is ridiculous." you mumble, cheeks flushed.

"Oh, hush. Have some table manners, will you?" he teases, holding the next spoonful right in front of your mouth "It’s rude to speak with your mouth full, you know. Now, aaa~"

★ --

Shoko steps into the room, clipboard in hand and a focused look on her face. She pauses mid-step, though, taking in the sight before her.

There you are, on the bed, head resting peacefully on Satoru’s shoulder, breaths slow and steady in sleep. Your healthy arm is entwined with his, fingers curled against his sleeve as if holding onto him even in your dreams. A soft, well-worn book rests in his lap, open to a half-read page, hinting that you two had been reading together until sleep claimed you.

Satoru glances up as Shoko enters, catching her eye and lifting a finger to his lips in a silent request to keep quiet. There’s a surprising gentleness in his expression, something soft and protective that Shoko rarely sees, especially in him. He gives her a slight smile, nodding subtly toward you as if to say - Let them rest a little longer.

Shoko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t make a sound. She’d always known Satoru had a soft spot for you, but seeing it here, so unguarded, speaks volumes. She makes a note on her clipboard, then gives a little nod and steps back, closing the door softly behind her.

Satoru watches her go, his hand shifting slightly to adjust the blanket over you and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He glances down at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he returns his attention to the book, careful not to disturb you, content to sit in this rare moment of peace.

He is so glad that you are here, with him.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl: @kalopsia-flaneur, @dainslumi, @syneyam, @idiotgojo, @itachiiwrites

[letmerideitchris]

𐬺𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𐬺

Summary: Chris matt and nick get a new videographer, she is funny, smart and pretty, basically everything Chris could ever want in a girl. Chris finds it impossible to not fall for her…

Warnings: smut, blowjob, getting caught, cursing

Wc: 1014

“guys i dont want a new videographer, memo was the best and i dont think anyone could do what he did” chris says as he sits up from the couch

Nick rolls his eyes at chris’ comment. “chris you're gonna have to get over it because our new one is here in 15 minutes whether you like it or not.”

“maybe you will like him!” matt says trying to brighten the mood, but chris just scoffs and looks away

“matt what, you know its a girl right?” nick says looking at matt with a shocked expression

“really? Well thats good for a change of scenery i guess!” matt replies as he shrugs his shoulders

“this is dumb, i think i would rather stop filming content then get a new videographer”

“okay that is so dramatic get over yourself she’s here in probably 10 minutes now so put on a smile and dont be a bitch” nick snaps back

10 minutes later you arrive at their front door and hesitantly ring their door bell.

ding dong

“chris, how about you go and get the door because you're being such a whiny little baby” nick

“nick i swear to…okay ill do it.” chris sighs loudly as he walks downstairs towards their front door

Chris opens the door slowly to see the most gorgeous girl he has ever seen, the only thing hes thinking is all the things they can do together, but hes quickly taken out of his trance when y/n speaks up.

“hi im y/n! You must be… nick?” you say presumptuously

“h-hi yeah um nick.. I MEAN chris, yes, chris” “nice to meet you, y/n”

You chuckle “well lovley to meet you chris, would you like to take me upstairs to meet the other boys?”

“uhh YES of course i think they would love that” chris speaks up as he takes you upstairs to meet his brothers.

Chris is too stunned to speak properly, nick and matt meet you and they think you are great.

“sorry guys but it was kind of a long drive, would it be okay if i got some water please?”

“yeah no problem ill sort you out and give you a little tour of the place” matt replies walking in the direction of their fridge

“see chris, she doesnt seem bad at all, if anything she seems-”

“like my dream girl, yeah, i know, i dont know what to do” chris blurts out, feeling like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders from the confession.

“um so not what i was going to say but yeah okay! Your gonna have to hold all that in because i don't want you to fuck anything up and make it awkward” “oh god chris why are you sweating, you're gross go change” he says backing away from chris disgustedly

“i dont think that can happen nick but yeah ill get changed..” chris replies, aware of his sweaty clothes

Chris is opening his door with his top only half on

“shit! Oh hi sorry you gave me a shock.. How did you-” chris says as he slightly jumps back from his door frame

“matt said this was your room, i was just coming up to check it out, but that can wait for another time” y/n says apologetically “sorry I came up, that was dumb..”

“no it wasnt..” chris says reassuringly, slightly cutting her off

Your both standing there staring at eachother not knowing what to do, chris takes a slow step forward, you do the same, you continue looking at eachother until you hesitate.

“no, it was dumb, sorry, i will see you downstairs chris” y/n says quietly as she quickly walks away from chris

chris is left standing there wondering if he did anything wrong, guilt clouds his mind but he decides to make his way back upstairs all dressed.

“oh wow how nice of you to finally join us chris!” nick says whilst sarcastically clapping his hands

You are standing near the couch looking at him standing from the top of the stairs

“guys i need to go to the store to get some stomach medicine I'll be back” matt says grabbing his car keys

“matt are you kidding? Can your sore little stomach just wait?”

“no nick, it can't actually wait, that's why i am leaving now”

“god you are annoying, but i know you dont like driving alone so i will come…”

“arent you just a cutie!!” matt says jokingly and walks towards the door

“shut the fuck up or i am not coming, dont make it a big deal lets go”

Chris clears his throat “uhh so will me and y/n just like stay here” he speaks up

You both glance at eachother

“oh um yeah about that-” nick says quietly, only so matt can hear

“yes? What’s wrong with that? Whatever i am leaving now” matt

Nick stares at chris giving him a death stare as he leaves

The door shuts

Youre both sitting there awkwardly waiting for one of you to speak up

Chris breaks the silence “uh y/n… i am kinda sorry about before, i didnt mean to make things awkward”

“no, dont be sorry, i just didnt want your brothers to come up and see that.. But now they are gone.. So"

Chris swallows nervously as he looks at you with lust in his eyes

10 minutes later

All that can be heard from the living room is groaning and whimpering “mmph chris who knew in the first 30 minutes of knowing you i would be swallowing your dick” you say finally taking a breath

“youre good, a bit too good” chris says moaning “how many other guys have you done this to”

“well lets just say-”

Before you could answer you both here keys screwing into the front door, and faint talking from familiar voices

It opens

You are both staring at each other stuck on what to do as they hear footsteps coming up the stairs

“OKAY WHAT THE FUCK IT HAS BEEN 10 MINUTES CHRIS” nick says covering his eyes dramatically

divider credits @bernardsbendystraws

[ailithnight]

So, it's implied (at least in BtAS and possibly in other runs too) that Jim knows.

So Jim isn't going to have a face at this. His face is going on a journey. A moment of WTF, then processing, trying to figure out if Bruce got another one somehow without Jim knowing, realizing and reorienting his thoughts around how the papers the kid is waving are signed by-not Bruce- Batman, processing some more, realizing he can use thisto mess with Bruce, a flash of wicked glee at this new idea, and finally schooling back into stern police commisioner face.

"Alright kid, let's go call him then to pick you up."

"Oh.. Oh, that's really not necessary. I can make my own way home, Mr..."

"Gordon. And I'm sorry, kid, but you're a minor and who was just caught up in a Scarecrow attack. I cannot just let you leave without a legal guardian. Besides, as many attacks as you've been in lately, I need to have a word with him anyway. Now come on, kid. And don't worry. I got your Dad's number. He always picks up when I call."

By 'I got your Dad's number, let's go call him to pick you up,' what Jim actually means is this:

We're gonna go up to the roof, flick on the Batsignal, and wait for Batman to show up. Then I can pass you off and spend a few minutes scolding him about letting the kid he took in wander Gotham without supervision, getting caught up in all these attacks. Maybe throw in a 'never had this problem with Wayne' just for the kicks.

Jim is gonna have so much fun. So will Danny when he realizes Mr. Gordon is just fucking with Batman.

Feral McGee™

It starts with the Joker. 

His goons picked up Tim Drake. Not specifically because it was Tim Drake, he just so happened to be in the Joker’s neighborhood, and we'll, he can't pass up that opportunity now can he? 

Except Tim Drake is watching, along with the rest of Gotham, at the Batcomputer. He’s nursing a broken foot and has been put on monitor duty until he's cleared for field work again. 

The guy looks enough like him, though. Black hair, blue eyes, and bags under his eyes for days. He's also got the same lean sort of build like he does. 

It happens like this. 

The Joker is doing his monologue thing where he explains whatever twisted game he's come up with this time. He takes up the majority of the screen, so nobody can see Not-Tim behind him, not until the big reveal. Then he covers the screen again, getting up close and personal, before stepping back. In those quick few seconds, Not-Tim is no longer sitting there tied to the chair. 

Someone off camera lets the Joker know, and he whirls around, confused as the rest of Gotham. 

And then Not-Tim comes in with the steel chair. 

Or, well, a crowbar, but the reference holds up. 

He takes out one of Joker’s knees before punching him in the face. The Joker drops like a bag of stones, out cold. 

Then he looks towards the camera. 

“Hey there. I'm not really sure where I am, but also if he was after Tim Drake, he got the wrong guy. I'm not him, I'm just some dude. Anyway, I'll just-yep-” he carefully steps over the unconscious Joker, gives the camera a little wave, and then leaves. 

Batman and Nightwing enter shortly after, with the Joker and his goons out cold and tied up. The knots were complicated enough where, in the end, the police resorted to cutting the ties off of them so they could be properly cuffed and taken to Arkham. 

“A constrictor knot,” Batman tells Nightwing as they watch the villain be taken away. “Often used by sailors to temporarily tie things together to keep something in a bag, or to hold something to glue it back together.”

“Huh,” Nightwing says, scratching the back of his head. “Go figure.”

—

The next time it happens, it’s the Riddler. 

He’s laughing, giving his riddles to the Bats and recording himself to all of Gotham while his victim, one of the Wayne brats, hangs over a vat of something. From a distance, he looks like Tim Drake, or maybe a lankier Dick Grayson. And he’s not the only victim, they’re all scattered across the city, but he thought an important figure such as a Wayne should be under the Riddler’s direct supervision while he enacts his schemes. 

While the Riddler cackles and plots and waves his cane around, in the background all of Gotham can see the figure escape. Several Gothamites recognize him as the kid from before, who clocked the Joker. They all watch with bated breath as he sort of wiggles his way out of the ropes holding him up. Once he’s free, he climbs the rope and gets himself down safely. 

Gotham holds their breath as the kid casually walks up to the Riddler, who’s mid-rant. He politely taps him on the shoulder, and as the Riddler is turning around, the kid clocks him just as brutally as he had the Joker. He’s down with one punch. 

They think he’s going to say another sort of awkward goodbye, but instead he pats the Riddler down until he finds a piece of paper tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“Right,” the kid says, looking at the list. There’s a lot more static overlay now, and several wonder if it’s damage to the cameras. “Uh, the Clocktower, the Docks, and-” he squints at the page for a moment-”Mama Nacaroni’s? What the fuck is that? Anyway, uh. See you later, I guess. Oh! And we’re at the Gotham Arena. Have fun with him, I guess.”

The kid tosses the paper off to the side before the camera cuts to black. 

Just like last time, everyone is out cold and tied up. The Riddler himself is sporting a pretty bad shiner, but well deserved nonetheless. 

“Stop it,” Red Hood tells him. Batman just looks at him, and though Hood can’t see the top half of his face, he can tell that his eyebrow is raised. “You know exactly what I mean, B. Put the adoption papers away.”

“Hn.”

—

After that, it sorta becomes a game. The rogues of Gotham are no longer after a Wayne, or after anybody who holds any kind of social status like usual. They’re all going after this one kid, all determined to be the one to hold him. And each one is televised. 

Mr. Freeze freezes him in a block of ice, but due to the cameras glitching out, nobody can really see how he got free. They do, however, see the kid suplex Mr. Freeze. It should seem impossible, given his lanky figure, but he evidently has more muscle than he’s originally let on. 

Two-Face gets a hold of him, using chains and some power-dampening cuffs just on the off-chance that he’s a meta. They all watch as the kid leans down, pulls a bobby pin out of his hair, and picks the locks on his cuffs. One punch, and Two-Face is down. 

Gothamites are going wild for the kid. They’ve dubbed him Feral McGee™ (an online poll, of course), because every time he goes in for the punch he gets this feral look in his eyes. Also, just the fact that he casually goes up to these rogues and takes them out with all the casualness of doing something incredibly mundane? Incredible. The Gothamites are eating it up. However, despite the video evidence, nobody has been able to properly identify the kid. They know he has black hair and bright eyes, but any time he gets near a camera, it’s like there’s this weird, sort of warped quality the camera takes on. It doesn’t usually calm down until the fight is done-as one sided as they usually are-before he awkwardly skedaddles away.  

He gets kidnapped by the Penguin, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy (though that was more just a friendly chat than anything), Mad Hatter, and the Riddler again. 

And then the Joker escapes. 

It’s no surprise as to who he’s going to go after. 

Due to one too many careless goons, they manage to find their way to the Joker’s hideout pretty quickly. This time, it’s all Bats on deck, and they all hide away in the rafters as Feral McGee™ is hung over a vat of acid. His whole body is tied up, hardly a single inch of exposed skin to be seen except for the neck up. 

They watch the goons, they watch the Joker, and they watch Feral McGee™. 

The Joker is monologuing, practically begging the bats to come find him before the timer runs out. When it does, the kid gets dumped into the vat of acid. 

Despite these stakes, the kid seems to be only mildly annoyed. 

“Fuck this, I have homework I still need to finish,” they hear him say. 

They all watch, amazed and confused, as the kid starts gnawing through the ropes. Human teeth shouldn’t be able to do that so easily, but one bit after the other, and soon enough the kid’s got himself freed enough to just climb up the rest of the rope. When he’s at the top of the crane holding him up, Batman lets down a rope and pulls the kid up and out of danger. 

“Oh, cool, you’re all here,” the kid says casually, as if meeting the entire Bat Clan is just a normal Tuesday. And then he pulls out a notepad and pen and hands it to Red Hood. 

“Can I get an autograph? You’re dope as fuck, dude.”

Red Hood has to look away and hide his face in his arms for a few moments to not give away their location with his laughter before signing. And then, one by one, the others do as well. They pass along the kid’s notebook with shit-eating grins and barely contained snickers despite the fact that the Joker is still right below them. Even Batman signs it, after his children don’t stop hounding him about it. 

In their distraction, they didn’t see the kid sneak away. He’s far away from them now, nearly right over the Joker. Danny waits, though, until the Joker has turned around as the timer almost runs out. They watch as he snickers at Joker’s flabbergasted look. The Joker comically looks back and forth and under objects the kid obviously isn’t under. However, before he can do or say anything else, the kid drops from the rafters and right on top of the Joker. He crumples to the ground, unconscious. The kid, however, just brushes the dust off of himself. Despite the fall he took, there isn’t a scratch on him. 

When the bats join him, they give his notepad back to him, barely able to contain their laughter at the absurdity of it all. The kid, too, joins in the camaraderie, laughing and joking along with them as Batman secures the Joker. 

“Okay, okay, but I gotta ask, dude,” Red Hood says at one point, looking at the kid. “How do you keep getting kidnapped?”

The kid just shrugs. “I get distracted easily. And I’m sleep deprived, so you know. Social awareness is kind of at an all time low right now.”

“Why are you sleep deprived?” Nightwing asks, barely hidden concern in his voice. 

 “Finals are kinda kicking my ass right now. Especially this dumb English homework I have. You guys wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, lucky for you,” Red Hood says, wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders as he walks them out of the warehouse, “I happen to know a lot about English. So, it is Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

As they walk off, Batman calmly watches, though the rest of the bats can see his jaw twitching. Nightwing comes up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If you don’t adopt him, I will.”

“Hn.”

[mintedwitcher]

yes yes I know we all want the Tommy copter crash whump BUT it's been two seasons since Buck has had a near death experience.

put him in the chopper, but not with Tommy.

"I can't work with him," Tommy says in an undertone to Bobby, watching Buck across the tarmac grabbing his gear from the 118's truck. "I get that you want us to talk, but this is a serious crisis, Captain, we can't afford distractions."

"Buck's professional, he won't--" Bobby tries, but Tommy shakes his head.

"I don't doubt his professionalism, I doubt my own," Tommy says. "Give me Eddie, Lucy can take Buck."

"Alright, if you're sure," Bobby says. Tommy nods and beelines it back to his chopper before Buck can join their conversation. But he sees the moment Bobby relays the new orders. The slump to his shoulders, the twist of his face. He cuts a glare over at Tommy, who looks away immediately, afraid of being caught staring. Not that it matters.

The choppers go up. Eddie's buckled in next to Tommy. Everything's going fine. The radio crackles to life.

"Not to be unprofessional," says Buck's voice, bitter and sulking, over the radio, "but do you think this wind is gonna be an issue for the landing? Over."

Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs. Tommy frowns.

"Is Donato worried? Over."

"No but you know what they say about wind. It never knows which direction it's going. Over."

Tommy's jaw clenches.

"Get off the radio, Buckley," he snaps.

"Or what, huh? You'll walk away again?" Buck demands.

"Okay, can we save the domestic for later?" Lucy interrupts, clearly pissed off. "We have a job to do, and I didn't sign on to sit here and listen to you two-- SHIT"

"Donato?"

"Tommy." Eddie's voice is dark, filled with dread. Tommy looks out of the passenger side window, just in time to see the other helicopter begin to nosedive towards the ground. Tommy's heart drops right alongside it.

"Evan..."

[quantum1mmortality]

Im so glad you're writing for Curly bc I'm so obsessed with him rn!! May I suggest (if you haven't done them already) some soft/fluffy post burn hcs? Like finally seing him again after a long drive to the hospital, mentally preparing yourself for what he might look like. Curly being so afraid about how you'd react, and just breaking down when you let out an "oh, Curly :(" and softly place a hand on his cheek, so worried that you might hurt him by accident that it's hardly even a touch at all. Curly leaning his cheek into your palm, having been so scared to see you and now so desperate for your touch.

Life returning to a new normal after a while, prosthetics and PT, skin grafts, so on. Lying in bed with him and being so relived and happy when he gets a spark of mischief like he used to and tries to tickle or play wrestle with you. Him quietly asking questions when the laughter dies down. if you missed his lips, or the blond hair you loved so much that now hardly grew at all. Reassuring him that it didn't matter what he looked like, or what he could and could not do anymore. He's still your curly.

Sorry this turned out so long 😭 I can't get him out of my head!

I LOVE what you wrote 🙏🙏 I'll be going off of these, taking bits and pieces of your hcs and then putting them in here. Overall just gonna be fluffy post crash Curly hcs :)

Of topic, but the way some people in this fandom treat post crash curly makes me nauseous. Finding out that some of you wouldn't treat him like I would makes me wanna cry. Maybe I'm too empathetic or maybe I'm a baby back bitch, either way, I'd care for this man so much. Y'all don't understand how much I love him.

Tw/cw; none!! One curse word but that's literally it (I think)

Not proofread

Extremely sensitive to touch for the first few weeks. I feel as though curly would be in incredible pain, but would try his best to keep your hands touching his cheeks, face, body in general. He'd even go as far as to whimper at how bad it hurt, yet still enduring it because he needed to know you still loved him.

He'd be so happy to see you anytime you were around. Just like pre crash, but it was more special. It got to the point where you would take off work for weeks at a time just to be with him, just so you could see him happy.

After the first two months of agonizing pain, you'd start touching him more. Not sexual, obviously, but just getting more physically affectionate. You'd be able to hug and kiss him goodbye, and hold on to his arm as you talked with him.

Speaking of talking, he wouldn't be able to, so you would talk for him. Basically telling him something, then answering any questions he may or may not have. You've known him long enough, you know how he'd react and question things, so it was practically a no brainer for you.

Now that he doesn't feel as much pain as he used to from your touches, you'd begin sleeping with him. NOT SEXUAL!!! Just cuddling up next to him in the hospital bed, laying your head on his shoulders and kissing him goodnight. Just like how you used to.

Eventually he'd start getting prosthetics, and aside from the physical therapy he's usually getting, you'd bring board games and playing cards so he could learn to use his new hands while still spending time with you.

Curly used to kick your ass in uno and honestly he still does. The trembling in his hands would slowly go away over time, and you were helping him with that much more than his physical therapist was; because at least he wanted to actually be around you.

After months and months, he'd finally be ready to take home. New prosthetics and a bunch of skin graft surgeries later, he's in good condition again. Not perfect in his eyes, but it is in yours.

He wouldn't be able to work, but Pony Express sends him checks as if he was. He gets enough from them, you could quit your job, but you don't want to be dependent on them. So you keep working.

Getting home from work is your favorite part of the day, having Curly be so happy to see you makes everything so worth it.

Your home life goes back to normal with a few exceptions, but nothing too drastic. Curly being in a wheelchair and still not being able to speak, but it's nothing you can't handle. You love him, you're willing to make sacrifices. He'd do the same for you, and you know that.

Bonus content; if you guys were married before the crash, once he got his prosthetic hands, he'd have you help him make a little beaded necklace for his ring to go on; that way he could still wear it :) he'd never take the necklace off once it's done

A/N; I've been pretty busy recently so sorry for the delay on requests; I have a lot of ideas for them though so hopefully they'll be out soon

[zvezda-writer]

Ex-boyfriend!Simon x Sex Worker!Reader

How big was your surprise when the door of your client's apartment opened and there was Simon, your ex.

Well, yes, it has been around ten years since you saw each other and he definitely had a glow up from the gaunt, funny boy you met back in the shitty neighborhood you two lived in Manchester. Same neighborhood, same type of family, same struggles growing up. You two had everything in common and could've ended up getting married and living in a one bedroom apartment in the same old neighborhood.

But he left.

Without goodbye, without explaining, he just left. You found out by his brother that he had joined the military. You were devastated, to say the least.

You stayed behind, having to take care of your ill mother since your father was a drunk bastard. Until he died when you were nineteen, killed during a bar fight. With the employment rate near to zero in the area you lived in, your solutions were either prostitution or drug dealing, and you refused to be involved with drugs.

That's how you ended up in the sex business. The money was good and you and your mother moved to London, and you started getting richer clients. That's how you ended up there, face to face with the man who broke your heart when you were only sixteen.

You two stared at each other in dead silence for a couple of seconds until you decided that he probably didn't even remember you, so you just acted normal, like you didn't remember him too. The money was too good to reject it.

–You're the one who called me, handsome?

You asked, your voice sickly sweet. He didn't answer, of course. At least not with words.

Without saying anything, he cupped your face with his big, callused hands, attacking your lips with his with deep, burning passion, the taste of his lips heavy with a mix of whiskey and tobacco. The taste had changed, but the way he kissed you, like a starved man, was the very same since you were both teenagers.

But, oh, he remembered you. More than you could've expected. And the moment he saw you standing right in front of the door, the feelings he had butried so deep came back to life in a explosion, leaving him blind with passion and longing.

After a moment he finally let go of your lips, pulling away just enough to get some air, his hands never leaving your face as he whispered in a raspy, rough voice who almost made you moan.

–Can't belive you're bloody real... Ten years, bunny. It's been fucking ten years.

And your heart stopped. He remembered. And hearing him call you the petname he had used with you so many times in the past made your heart twist in knots, eyes burning with tears that you refused to let fall. Your makeup was too expensive for it.

–I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for not saying goodbye.

He murmured, kissing you again and again as he pulled you inside, shutting the door close without letting go of you.

Each kiss, each touch, everything about him and his presence was an explosion of feelings and sensations you couldn't describe, ecstasy cursing through your veins at each pump of your heart, lungs suffocating with the smell of his cologne at each uneven breathing, brain melting with every sweet word that left his mouth, body shuddering with every thrust of his divine sculpted dick.

–I'm never letting you go again, bunny...–another thrust –Gonna marry you...–another thrust –Gonna fill you up and make you a mommy, yeah?

All you could do was nod, your brain barely registering his words as he overwhelmed you with pleasure and love, and even if what he said wasn't true, it didn't matter at the moment. At that moment, you were both the old Y/N and Simon again, hiding inside his father's old truck at night to have a moment alone.

Your mind turned into a puddle as an overwhelming, destructive orgasm hit her, your warm and soaked cunt clenching and throbbing around his cock, and after a few more thrusts he made his words come true, filling you up to the brim.

Sure, at the moment you didn't actually believe he would marry you and take care of you, but then six months later you found yourself sitting on a comfortable armchair, hand resting on top of your round belly as you watched the most handsome man in the world build your daughter's crib in her pink room, under your inspection of course. Guess he took his promises way too seriously because after the first encounter in two months you were married and moving to a beautiful house in a nice, calm neighborhood, and everyday he made sure to remind you that you didn't have to lift a finger, he was your man, he's supposed to take care of you, right?

[leandra-kinard]

I'm in no way invalidating this post, as I assume it's US-centric. But it's a stark reminder how vastly different the work cultures are there and in Germany where I live and work.

Yes, you don't have to tell your boss everything, and in some instances it's a good idea to say less, but if you have any kind of long-term illness or condition, it actually is a good idea to talk about it with your boss (and HR + the work's council, if you have one). Good employers in Germany will then do their best to accommodate for your needs so they can keep you and make things work out for you. They tend to have a more long-term mindset where they want to help the employee get better or find better ways to be a happy (and yes, with that productive) employee.

That's not always the case either; especially internationally operating corporations here are a bit more cut-throat, so it's a good thing to know the company's mindset well, but it's a tendency.

Also, there are actual laws that prohibit them from firing you for something like that. There are limits, for example if you're actually sick (off work) for too long repeatedly with no prospect of improvement that can be a just cause for termination, but the employer has the duty of proof in that instance. If they cannot prove that your absences are too detrimental to the company's well-being for them to tolerate it, you can sue for reinstatement or damages.

At my current company, I've been immensely lucky, because even for German standards the mentality there is extraordinarily understanding and supportive. When I told my boss that I was burned out and had to take a week or two off (on fully paid sick leave, mind you), he said "Two weeks might not be enough. Take as long as you need." So I took four.

I was in the process of switching departments, so I had a conversation with my next boss too and asked if I could work from home completely for a while. He seemed very understanding, and I then told him the whole story - because he also needed to have some kind of prospect and know how long it was gonna take etc - so I said I was in the process of being diagnosed for ADHD and that I just couldn't manage also having to go into the office.

Now that I have the diagnosis and will soon hopefully get my meds, there's that prospect, and we said for now, I was gonna come in one day a week (usually 2 is mandatory) for a while until I feel ready to be there two days again.

That was only possible because I explained what was going on with me; the transparency also gave the employer a positive outlook and a feeling of trust, and when your company's mentality is built on those kinds of values, it makes for a million times more pleasant AND productive working environment. I mean, just by how this all was handled I do feel very loyal to my company now. (I'd be stupid to leave, frankly, lol).

And from many other cases I know how they reacted too. A colleague had to stay at home because she had pregnancy complications - no problem. Another one sometimes has to leave early or work from home because she has frequent and heavy migraines. Sometimes people have to do the same because of something to do with their kids. Everyone is usually fully transparent about it and it really helps create an atmosphere of openness and trust.

TL;DR: Err on the side of caution, yes. But do inform yourself of your legal rights in your country, and the mechanisms in such situations. Suss out the company's approaches to various issues and know their policies. Sometimes, when the outside conditions are in your favor, being transparent about your situation can be the better choice.

Hey here is your friendly reminder to not tell your nice boss stuff.

I’m at the executive management level for my very small company and I have 4 people who report directly to me. I am a nice boss. I’m friendly with my employees, I treat them like professional adults, I actively try to create a positive work environment, and I mentor them and make sure they’re advancing in their careers. I do my best to shield them from the rest of management doing stupid shit. My employees like working for me.

The other day one of my employees came to ask if she could change her hours on Mondays. I said yes immediately because it’s helpful for me to know when she’s here and when she’s not, but as long as she gets her work done I don’t care when and where she does it. She then proceeded to tell me that it was so she could attend therapy and like … I will never use this information but … as a general rule don’t fucking do that.

Do not tell your employer shit about your mental or physical health except for the bare minimum needed to request a reasonable accommodation. Even your nice boss can fire you, even your nice boss can unfairly change your working conditions, and even your nice boss at some point is probably going to face pressure from their superiors.

I’m not saying don’t trust your boss with anything ever. I’m just saying that anytime you are in the workplace you need to keep your private information private. You can still have a good relationship with your boss. Your workplace can still be pleasant. But if it ever feels like disclosing private information is required in order to have a good relationship with your boss, please see that as a red flag.

[colorquest]

~☆~

...

D(ebbie): HEYYYYYYY SAMANTHA!!!!!! V(ilmr): Hiiii!

S(amantha): Hehe, hi Debbie, hi Vilmr. S: Can you see me alright? D: Yeah I can see you, and that smelly boy behind you too. V: I can smell him from here. D: YEAH bleuch! We can smell him from here!!! M(ichael): --Oh! M: Oh jeez, when you said you were gonna call I didn't think you meant like, right away-- D: SAMANTHA can you see us? S: Yes, we can see you too Debbie.

M: Hey you two! M: What's up? D: Oh my gosh he doesn't even know what's up!!! D: Don't you know what day it is?! M: Oh, uh...! M: The... eleventh? V: The twelfth actually, on the other side of the world. D: Yeah DUH. M: I-- I didn't think that was relevant? D: Omfggggg nnnnnnnOTHING. D: You. D: Know. D: NOTHING............... V: It's the twelfth where it's happening right now! V: That's the whole reason we're calling! S: Michael, there's a full eclipse happening soon, remember? S: It's all we've been hearing about for weeks now. M: Oh! M: Shoot, that's tonight? D: Um, uh-durrrr? M: The sun's already setting though :/ M: Too bad we won't be able to see it... V: Aht! D: YEAH AHT AHT! D: That is where you are wrong! S: Michael, Debbie says she's found someone who's streaming the eclipse, all the way from Wootosh. M: Woah, what? M: How did you even manage to access something like that? D: Yeah I mean whatever, you know? D: Only took me all day to find but whatever, like, I have my sources, no big deal. S: It's very exciting, Debbie.

M: Actually Vilmr, I'm surprised you aren't with Maja right now while this is going on. M: An eclipse definitely sounds like it'd be important to her, right? V: Guuuhhhhhh, don't remind me. V: She has been trying to get a hold of me for nearly an hour now. D: Yeah and she can live, it's not like you're the one who believes in that junk. D: Literally no reason for you to be over there. V: Yeah but... it could be one of those times where it's really serious for her. V: She is going to be sooo mad when I get home. V: Maybe I really should get back soon. D: UMMM??? D: No, you're basically an adult now, you're like 18 you can do what you want. S: I don't even think you could make it in time if you left now, Vilmr. S: That's a pretty long walk... D: Yeah it's a long walk! D: So literallyyyyyy, just stay here. D: Don't stress your head all up about what she might or might not be thinking. V: Buh... D: ANYWAY.

[[ Debbie sends a link to the livestream ]]

D: There's the stream Samantha. S: yey -v- S: Michael, are you gonna watch with us?

M: Heck, why not. M: As long as this isn't illegal or anything, right? M: Haha... M: ...Right? S: I dunno about that. M: S: *yawn* S: Debbie? D: Okay Wootosh doesn't own the eclipse, first off. D: So freaking WHAT if it's an orc who set it up or whatever. D: And second, I dug deep to find this stream and NONE of you are gonna chicken out about it. D: And nobody's gonna FALL ASLEEP BEFORE IT HAPPENS EITHER, SMUMANTHA... S: Michael's here to make sure I stay awake, don't worry Debbie. M: Haha, yeah. D: yeah okay sure. V: Hey actually, it sort of doesn't make sense for me to even be here? V: I just realized this? D: Yes it does IT DOES MAKE IT SENSE. D: IT'S THE MOOD. D: IT'S THE VIBES. D: Even if you can't see it you still get to say you were there......... V: But... I'm literally not? D: FIGURATIVELY. D: Open your mind Vilmr. D: Or your third eye or whatever Maja would want you to have open-- whatever! D: You're STAYING HERE DOSH GARNIT. V: I don't plan on going anywhere, I'm just saying!!! V: Åh, Maja förlåt mig...

M: So um, is it supposed to be so grainy? D: Yeah I guess. D: I dunno. D: That's just how I found it. S: It looks like it still has a little while before it starts. V: It starts at 7:15 tonight. D: Sooooo we got like half an hour to kill then. V: Killing the hours away is what we do best, is it not? D: So true. D: That being saiiiiiid...

D: Samantha! D: Michael. D: What are you guys up to, huh? V: ...? D: What's up. D: Over at Michael's place to day huh? D: What's that about? D: Huh? M: Oh, I invited her over, she was home alone and...-- S: ......... M: Samantha, hey, don't fall asleep just yet, haha... D: Samantha I see you falling asleep. D: Samantha. D: MICHAEL WAKE HER UP BETTER SHE'S GONNA MISS THE-- S: *snort* S: mh-- S: Sorry, I'm here... S: What did you say, Debbie? D: Nevermindddddddd, just like-- D: BRRRBBRBTGGRRNGHBRRR....... D: Come on, let's just chat. D: Like let's just keep ourselves occupied, okay. D: Like we gotta see this, when is the next time we're ever gonna see something like this??? V: Uh like, four or five years from now I'm pretty sure. V: If I remember what Maja told me at least. D: And what about it??? D: That's like. FOREVER from now. D: WE COULD BE DEAD BY THEN. M: Oh jeez, I hope not...! D: LIVE IN THE NOW!!!!!! S: Debbie you're getting me so hyped up, hehe... D: GOOD! D: LET'S GET HYPE ABOUT IT AND STAY AWAKE ABOUT IT AND STUFF!

~☆~

You can dictate the flow of these four friend's conversation. Find out how by clicking here.

🔆

[nakylvr]

sophia using her big hands to cover ur mouth when she's fucking you bc the others are in the house yeah

well yes! 😍 we're back to our normal schedule folks!

— UNSPOKEN WORDS ⚓️

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, f!reader, semi-public, mommy kink, dom!sophia, sub!reader, fingering

minors dni

"shh, we don't want the others to hear, do we?"

shaking your head, you bite down on your bottom lip in attempt to try to keep yourself quiet, staring up at sophia as she slips a second finger inside you, causing a quiet moan to come from you. "so-sophia," you whine out.

"i know, i know," she presses a quick kiss on your lips. "you're doing so good for me, my love. you're so pretty," she murmurs softly, her lips trailing down to start leaving little marks on your neck. she curls her fingers in you, resulting in you letting out a louder moan. "stay quiet, baby."

you tilt your head to the side feeling her lips attach to your neck, sucking lightly and occasionally biting to leave a mark with whimpers falling from your lips. "fu-fuck, mommy," you whine softly, your hands grabbing her shirt in a tight bundle. your noises are starting to get louder the more your brain is clouded with what you were feeling, not even realizing until one of sophia's hands clamps down over your mouth to quiet you as she speeds up her fingers.

her hand easily covers your mouth, your moans quieter now as she watches your eyes roll back when she curls her fingers again. "so good for mommy, aren't you? you like the idea that any of them could hear you, don't you?" she whispers into your ear, her lips grazing your skin lightly as she talks.

you moan into her hand, which comes out muffled thankfully knowing you were getting close by the way you kept clenching around her fingers. her tone is warm, the way she always speaks to you, but the words she's saying have your mind spinning as you shamelessly nod your head. "ye-yes, mommy," you manage to get out past her hand.

"dirty girl. you know you're mine, that means no one else gets to hear the pretty sounds you make. you understand? i'm the only person who gets to see you this way," her voice turns possessive almost at the thought of the other girls hearing you and how she makes you feel. her fingers pumping in and out of you at a fast pace while all you can do is moan helplessly into her hand.

nodding again, you get out another "yes, mommy." as you tighten around her fingers, feeling yourself nearing your orgasm. sophia can tell, curling her fingers again, rubbing right against your g-spot as your muffled moans get louder through her hand.

"you gonna cum, sweetheart?" sophia asks, smiling down at you as you nod feverishly. "go on, then. cum for mommy, my good girl."

as if on command, the second she gives you the okay to cum, your eyes are rolling back and your legs are shaking as you cum on her fingers. you pant heavily as she removes her hand from your mouth, caressing your cheek softly as she pulls her fingers from you. she holds them towards your mouth, which you part your lips and let her shove them in her mouth. a quiet moan mixed with a gag comes from you as she prods her fingers deeper into your mouth near your throat, tasting yourself which causes you to try and squeeze your thighs together.

sophia pulls her fingers from your mouth when she sees tears starting to well in your eyes, smiling down at you. "you did so good for me, my love."

"you think you can give me just one more before we have to go?" her smile widens at the dazed look you give her before nodding.

[himbosandhardwear]

This is a literal nightmare.

He can see her cheery orange sweater from the doorway, glowing under the sodium desk lamp. As if the library wasn't hateful enough, with it's enforced hush, they had to make everything hard to fucking see too. Ugh, great, she's got fucking note cards! Pink ones!

“Wheeler,” he growls at her, hoping to startle her with his slammed history book.

Unfortunately it doesn't work, only earns him a shush and a few annoyed glares from fellow patrons.

Wheeler looks up from under her lashes, quietly entertained if anything. “Munson. Glad you could finally make it.”

“Yeah well,” he straddles the wooden desk chair, “got caught up sacrificing virgins. You know how it is.”

She rests her pointed chin onto her hand. “So you trekked up to the middle school?”

Shit. Does she have a sense of humor?

“Yeah… Anyway, I'm here now. What torture have you got in store?” He eyes the note cards warily.

“Not these.” She swiftly wraps a rubber band around them and tucks them back into her bag. “I think I know what your issue is.”

“Childhood neglect?”

She gifts him with a snort. “Maybe. I was referring to your complete lack of interest in US History.”

“You can't make me care about it, Wheeler, that's not how this works.”

Her eyes do something that feels patronizing but also like maybe she knows something he doesn't.

It becomes apparent, hours later, that he shouldn't have thrown that gauntlet. Nancy Wheeler is a certified genius. No wonder St- Mmm, no.

“I can't believe you did it,” he admits after successfully passing her pop quiz. “How did you… I mean, I literally just learned all that against my will.”

“Easy. You like Tolkien, right?”

That takes him aback. He stares back at her for a second. “...yeah?”

“So you can absorb details when it's something you're interested in. All I had to do was make it interesting.”

Wow. Yeah, that actually makes sense now that he thinks about it. All she did was humanize the people involved, make them real. He couldn't care less about memorizing the dates of the battles but knowing forty-five hundred men died from Cholera that winter, seven hundred more from infection, it did something to Eddie's brain, forced it to latch on.

“Huh. What are you doing tutoring an idiot like me? You should be getting tenured at Yale or whatever.”

She does something no girl has done to Eddie since the fifth grade, she reaches out and holds his hand. He's too confused to pull away.

“You're not stupid. You're not even apathetic, not really. It's just that no one has ever bothered to teach you in a way that speaks to you. I want you to know that.”

He blinks at her. “Okay. Um. Kinda hard to keep hating you if you're gonna say shit like that.” He tries to laugh it off but she just keeps staring up at him with those big, blue eyes.

“You don't have to hate me, Eddie.”

What the fuck? Why is there a sudden undertone here?

“Sure thing, Wheeler. We should-” He doesn't have much to gather but he uses the little bit he did bring to avoid eye contact. She's gathering her things a lot slower and for some reason Eddie can't make himself leave her here. Fucking stupid white knight syndrome. “Hey, uh, how'd you know I like Tolkien?”

She doesn't look up from wedging a folder into her bag as she says, “Steve told me.”

Eddie’s nervous system goes ice fishing.

When he doesn't, can't, respond, she looks up, sees him staring, wide eyed and shaking. Instead of doing anything to calm him, she makes it worse by saying, “He talks about you more than he realizes. I might've actually been scared of you if I didn't know you have a favorite Christmas movie and that you stress bake.”

This is…cruel? He's not sure what her motive is. Shove their happy relationship in his face? She shouldn't want to do that, because she shouldn't know that Steve and Eddie were…anything. There's no way Steve told her that. The fact that he can feel that his face has gone white and he hasn't responded yet probably isn't doing him any favors.

“I can see there's some confusion happening.” Eddie nods, slowly, certain only that, if anything, he's confused. “Okay,” she drawls. “I feel like you're a cool person to talk to, that I can trust you. You're…safe?”

“Sure?” He has no idea where this is going.

“Right. You know my friend Barb,” she waits for his nod before explaining, “well we've been friends forever. Like, kindergarten forever. And one day, almost out of the blue, we get the idea to try out for Color Guard.” Yeah right. Wheeler and Holland are the last two girls Eddie can picture joining any kind of team sport activity, but he keeps following her story anyway. “We're practicing, right, and we've got our…flags…and we see each other's...flags...and we realize, we don't like…sports. So we quit and decided to do our own thing. Yeah?”

Holy shit. No way. There's no fucking way. Except Wheeler is nodding along with Eddie's shock, as if to say, ‘Yeah, you're getting it.’

He laughs, quiet so as not to alert anyone. The library is nearly empty but they're not the last ones left.

Eddie has to rub his eyes to stave off an impending headache but all in all this session has been quite eye-opening.

“That was pretty slick, I have to admit.”

She shoots him a wicked grin. “It usually is.”

“Ah gross! Don't make it weird.”

Now they're both laughing. Christ.

“I am cool. For the record. Scouts honor.” He holds up the devil horns just to make her laugh again, which she does.

“I know you're cool, Eddie. Inside scoop, remember?”

So much for their budding friendship. The reminder that Steve has said anything about their shared…whatever that was…puts him right back in the frozen pond.

“Steve and I weren't-” He lowers his voice. “That wasn't anything. I don't know what he told you but-”

“He misses you.”

Eddie's frozen guts shatter. Nancy doesn't even have the decency to let him scoop them up before she goes in for the kill.

“He'd be livid if he knew I told you that but it's true. He hates the way he ended it. Thinks you hate him for it, could never forgive him. But you wanted to hate me. Didn't you? Those aren't the feelings of a man indifferent to Steve's life.”

He trembles like an animal caught in a snare. “Why are you telling me this?”

A bittersweet look crosses her face, she looks over at the people sitting four desks over. “I know why he ended it. And…it's not like his reasons have suddenly disappeared. We both know things are precarious for us,” she meets his eye again to make sure he understands, of course he does, “but he's different now. Changed. A good friend. A person who deserves second chances. Deserves to be happy. He said you made him really happy.”

A traitorous tear slips down his cheek. He brushes it away, angry and embarrassed.

This was really fun, Eds, but I can't risk it anymore.

The worst part was, he couldn't argue the first bit. They did have a lot of fun.

God, he misses Steve too.

“If you've moved on, that's okay, I get it. No harm done, like I said, he doesn't even know we had this conversation. But, if you were wondering if he still thinks about you, the answer is yes.”

He nods. That's all he can do at the moment. She cups a tiny hand around his clenched fist and squeezes.

“Oh! Also, I'm thinking of starting an unofficial after school club. You too cool to hang out with me outside of school?”

Whiplash would feel like a pleasant massage compared to this woman, lord have mercy.

“What kinda club?” He asks gamely.

“Friends of Dorothy. You don't think it's just us waving flags, do you?”

Eddie's attention is caught mid-rant by the abhorrent sounds of Carol and Tommy H.

"Oh, Steve! Steve, oh, God, Steve-"

Eddie turns in time to see a pretty blush fill Steve's cheeks. Ah, he must have finally slept with the Wheeler chick. She's seated next to him, looking less than pleased about Steve's friends.

From what Eddie can remember, that's actually the opposite of what sleeping with Steve is really like. He's the noisy one, the one who moans and whines and whimpers when he's feeling so good.

"Fuck, Eddie, you feel so perfect-"

"Yeah, right there, Eds-"

"Keep going, I'm gonna, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-"

"Eddie!"

"Yeah!" He turns away from King Steve and back to the rest of the Hellfire club.

"You were saying, about that cantrip?"

"Right," he says, shaking off old memories. Now isn't really the time to be revisiting them, anyway.